


Once Upon Another Time

by EriksTrueAngel



Category: Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Drama, F/M, Family Fluff, Humor, Loosely inspired by The Family Man film, Minor Drug Usage, Modern AU, Romance, Some angst, There is another tag but too much of a spoiler to give away this soon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 75,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EriksTrueAngel/pseuds/EriksTrueAngel
Summary: The Family Man inspired. After the rooftop scene, Erik injects himself with morphine to deal with the pain. When he wakes up, he’s naked in bed with Christine and… Raoul is their son?!
Relationships: Christine Daaé & Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 24
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. The honor belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. I’m merely borrowing the characters. The title is from the song “Once Upon Another Time” from the Love Never Dies musical. Talk about a perfect title! 
> 
> A/N: I’m back!!!! I would have had this done a while back; in fact, 3 years ago is when I started writing this. Life has a way of throwing curveballs and a lot has changed since I begin writing it. I have switched jobs, moved, and earned my Master’s. Then came the pandemic and shutdown and I finally had time to get back into what I love doing… writing! It was a blessing in disguise so I could finish this for you to enjoy. I would like to thank my good friends for taking the time in reading this ahead of time and giving me pointers for improvement. Here’s a shout out to you Jessica, Michelle, and Rachel! 
> 
> I truly hope you and your families are being safe during this time of uncertainty. Remember to social distance, wash your hands, and wear those face masks in public spaces. If everyone does his or her part, I think we can all beat this thing. 
> 
> One final note… this story is loosely inspired by the Nicolas Cage film The Family Man. You will have the holiday backdrop and a different life shown, but the rest is purely my own invention. Another inspirational boost also came from finding this amazing trilogy, which is a continuation of Leroux’s novel by Davyne DeSye called The Phantom Rising series. You can find it on Amazon. I recommend you all check it out! 
> 
> Without further ado, I bring you:

**Chapter 1**

_“Christine…”_

The anguished whisper of his Angel’s name echoed in the cool night air. With one gloved hand clutched tightly, Erik bit into the leather as he silently wept. His heart was tearing in two as his treacherous mind replayed the horrendous scene once more. The accursed professions of love would not go away! Even now, he could practically hear Christine and the damn Vicomte speak of sharing one life, one lifetime.

Ripping his fist away, Erik howled his despair.

He _lost_ her.

He tried so hard to prove to her that he was a mere mortal—a man of flesh and blood—who loved her despite the wretched ugliness he was cursed with in his birth. If only God saw it fit to grace him with a handsome and normal face, then Christine would be in his arms instead of that milk-sopped _boy_.

Erik was a fool to think otherwise. To think that she could _ever_ accept him, love him.

Ah, yes. He was a _fool_.

Nevertheless, he should have known how the story would go. Had he not learned anything from his experience? From literature, from operas? The monster never finds happiness with the beautiful girl. No… the monster is meant to be reviled, hated, and shunned. And yet he had this ridiculous notion for hope! Since that auspicious evening when he first heard Christine singing on the stage, he knew she was different. True she was a slip of a thing, a tiny nymph with a wild mane of chestnut curls, and a voice that was severely untrained, but there was promise in her tone. With the proper tutelage and guidance, the chorus girl could become the next prima donna with the world at her feet.

And Erik was the one who could mold her into perfection.

It was sheer luck (or perhaps fate as he would blindly believe) that he overheard her tell the ballet rat Meg Giry about her father’s Angel of Music. A woman in body but a child in thoughts it was then that Erik conceived his plan to approach her. All he had to do was wait for her to be alone, and he allowed his unearthly voice to seduce her into thinking she was receiving a holy visitation of one of His angels. It had been easy, _too_ easy; however, she was an eager pupil and desperately happy to please her beloved Angel of Music.

He took delight in their lessons for she would be the voice to his music. Every lesson he shaped, brought to new heights, and Christine was magnificent! Somewhere, somehow (and not surprisingly) he had fallen in love with his student. He could not recall when the first seedlings took root, but he suspected it had to have been the night he appeared in the chapel. For there he was able to see her close and he could not forget the sight of her kneeling before a candle with only the moonlight coming through the single window.

She was petite, slender; her unruly tresses were pulled into a braid, a few rebellious strands escaped to frame her countenance; her eyes were wide, luminous as dazzling sapphires though dark in their sorrow; her lips were dainty, soft pink as newly budded roses parted as they silently moved in prayer. She was Beauty personified, yet despite her sadness, it only seemed to enhance her loveliness.

Erik knew he had no right to gaze upon her, not when she was a pure and holy vision; however, he heard her voice, and he knew he had to do whatever he could to have that divine instrument in his grasp.

And so, the deception began.

He knew he would be damned for yearning, wanting, _desiring_. He knew no woman—even Christine—would think of him as a man. Nevertheless, the more time he spent with her, the more he would lose himself in these silly delusions that she would have feelings for him. She loved her Angel of Music and was he not the Angel of Music? Surely, she would reciprocate her love to Erik, the man. He could not deny that she must have been longing for her Angel to be an earthly being. Did he not detect a hint of melancholy whenever she would glance upwards when she was with her peers? Even with Meg Giry, her dearest friend, he would notice how Christine’s attention would waver as if she were longing for someone else’s company.

His?

God, he had hoped!

In fact, he had almost got a confession out of her! In the beginning, their lessons were strictly business but as time went on, they would have conversations at the end. It was simple, idle chats which developed into discussions about the happenings in the opera house and stories of her childhood. Then one evening, Christine was distressed about something. He could tell in the way her voice was quivering and how she kept erring in the notes. Something was on her mind and he stopped the lesson to ask her what it was distracting her. He was not astonished that it was Carlotta that was bothering her.

Then the near revelation…

“Oh Angel, I don’t know why Carlotta often chooses to pick on us. Lately she has been giving me such looks and I know she tripped me intentionally today. I was so startled that I lost my balance, and I grabbed the first thing as I fell… I didn’t mean for it to be her d-dress!” Trembling, she covered her face. “Everyone laughed and Carlotta… I thought she was going to h-hurt me. Angel, I was _mortified,_ and I-I thought—I thought my dreams were over, that I was going to be let go, and then I would never hear you again. I would never be in your presence. It’s silly I know. But I was afraid I disappointed you, that I ruined all our work, and you would certainly leave me. Then I heard your voice, and Angel, I was so relieved! And happy! But—you may go after all. I tried to be good, truly. Yet, I am selfish, and you will think poor of me, and I couldn’t bear if you knew… if you knew what it was in my heart.”

“What is that my child?” Erik’s breath was caught in his throat. Her distress was not all due to Carlotta, but to do with _him_. What was in her head that had her worried that her Angel would leave her for good?

“I cannot speak it aloud. You would disapprove.” Christine lifted her pleading eyes, almost as if beseeching him to not ask or she might divulge the truth after all.

He could see how it troubled her, and while his own wicked desire yearned to know what she wished to conceal, he did not want to push her. So, he respected her wishes. Although, he had often wondered what it was that she did not want to say, and he had to surmise in her innocence she must have longed for her Angel to be corporeal and as he was meant to be a holy being… such longings would be sinful. A real Angel from Heaven would flee at the inclination of temptation.

But Erik was no Angel.

Yet, he had hoped when he revealed himself (an act of desperation thanks to the _boy_ ) she would be receptive to the notion that her beloved Angel was flesh and blood. She was willing, trusting… He believed she was his in those precious minutes where they descended to the underground lake and to his home. In that moment, anything was possible. Christine was _his_ and she would know how he loved her, how he would lay the world at her feet.

She would see pass the mask, pass the façade. She would see the beating heart of a man and find the beauty underneath.

However, the horror behind the mask could never be forgotten as her earlier words—a betrayal in every sense—resonated in his very soul.

_“How could I ever forget that sight? So, twisted and deformed. It was hardly a face in the darkness. Every time I close my eyes, I cannot escape him from my nightmares.”_

His face haunted her in her dreams. It didn’t matter that she also confessed how his voice had captured her and his music lifted her spirits to the point she felt as if she could soar to the Heavens.

None of that mattered not when she truly was frightened of him. How he regretted losing his temper! She was inquisitive, curious, and he knew this, but Christine removed his mask and he lashed out like a wounded animal would do to protect itself.

No.

Erik only had himself to blame for driving her into his rival’s embrace. And what did he really offer other than the night, a lifetime of winter, and this foul twisted face? The boy promised the day, a lifetime of summer, and a perfect face that would never inspire nightmares.

Indeed, what choice was there when having to choose between beauty or ugliness?

Still…

The ache in his chest continued to grow, his heart heavy from the rejection and the declaration of Christine’s fear. To make it worse, he tortured himself by watching the _boy_ comfort her and then kiss those rosy lips. Such knowledge and bliss were granted to the Vicomte, not Erik.

Never Erik.

God! If he could only go back to that moment when she unmasked him! Things would have been different. He would have prostrated before her, begged her for mercy and forgiveness. If he demonstrated some warmth, some patience then the story would have turned out differently. Perhaps events would even be favorable to him.

But he could not deny that he lost her, and Erik didn’t know how to win her back. Or if the notion was even possible.

Of course, it wasn’t.

One look at his malformed features and all possible happiness were gone forever.

No Angel would want to bound herself to a demon like him. Christine proved this when she turned to the Vicomte.

He couldn’t remember returning to his lair, but Erik’s state of mind was scattered in a million pieces. The voices would not leave him as he was forced to repeatedly listen to Christine and her suitor vow to share one love, one lifetime. Each recollection was a dagger to the heart.

Erik stumbled, his hand frantically searching for the only cure to stop this infernal turmoil in his soul. Sweet oblivion and silent darkness were what he needed, _craved._ He would find solace and peace just for a few minutes.

At last, he found the vial and readied the syringe. Anticipation leaped in his belly. He would shut out the voices and the heartache and the pain.

He rolled up his sleeve and found a vein that had not collapsed and rested the cool needle upon his flesh. He did not wince as it pierced the skin, although Erik released a shaky deep breath as he slowly inserted the morphine into his system.

The effects were almost immediate as he dropped the empty syringe to the floor and staggered to his throne. His mind was spinning but he no longer felt the pain as it began to dull and subside.

_Yes…_

He sat down, leaning back as the drug continued to work its magic, numbing his body and heart, and lastly, his mind.

Before succumbing, Erik’s incoherent thought was that of Christine and if he could only be granted some measure of happiness with her, then he would die a happy man.

xxXXxx

He blinked—first slowly, then rapidly—before closing his eyes tightly to block the rising sun.

_Wait. Sun?!_

Erik looked to find he was facing a window with the light peeking through the ( _blinds_ , his mind supplied). How in the world he knew what those horizontal strips were called he hadn’t the faintest. The thought occurred so naturally that it was the only explanation that was logical. The more he stared upon this new sight, the more conscious he was becoming, and with the dawning realization he was missing his clothes under the bedsheets.

_I don’t remember removing my clothes_ , he thought. In addition, he didn’t remember going to bed. His last recollection was the morphine and was he sitting—yes, he was sitting! Fragments started appearing: the rooftop, Christine…

_Christine._

Yes. Her declaration of love to another man and the stabbing reminder that his face was too much of an object of horror was a horrendous torment on his heart and soul.

Oddly, the last prickling sense of awareness Erik had since waking was his exposed face. Now he _knew_ without a doubt he wore his mask when he passed out. How peculiar he should be sans clothing and his mask without a single thought how he ended up in this position! In the past Erik never on occasion removed his mask while he partaken his opiate journey. He doubted he would do so, and this was no exception. Yet where was his mask?!

His eyes were set on the nightstand and his hand immediately enclosed around the knob and he pulled the drawer open. To his relief, the mask was buried underneath some various articles of things he knew not what, but there it was familiar and habitual as he slipped on the cool porcelain that only made perfect sense in this surreal and clearly bizarre morning. And Erik wanted to know exactly how he ended up in this predicament.

He heard a soft moan from behind, and he closed his eyes wondering how strong that vial was as he turned over to see who his mysterious bed companion was.

His mouth and nostrils were engulfed in soft and silky dark curls, a gentle caress to his exposed cheek. The sweet floral scent of jasmine and lavender greeted him, stirring his blood, and making him very warm. There was only one person who had that effect on him…

Flipping over, the woman’s eyelashes lazily flickered before sweeping them open to reveal two brilliant cerulean jewels.

“Christine!” he gasped, too stunned, and dumbfounded to utter more than a breathless exclamation. Clearly this was a result of the drug working its hallucinogenic properties to the point he could manifest Christine’s pure feminine perfume. How else could he explain her presence in his bed?

Or the coy canary grin that curved her lips?

“Morning,” she said huskily, adding a throaty giggle as a slender leg, smooth and supple, began to run up his calf, eliciting a visible shudder from the contact.

This hallucination was too much! It all felt so real that he nearly missed the sudden furrow of her brow and the widening eyes as she violently twisted off the bed and threw the bedsheet off her. She ducked to the floor only to emerge seconds later with her nightgown over her head as she moved to push it down in quick haste to cover herself.

“Hurry!” she hissed as she bent down again, and then threw something at him.

Erik looked down in his lap to see they were nightclothes. But his muddled brain was able to conjure up they were pajamas and the urgency that Christine was displaying implied he had to hurry too.

For what?

He obeyed the request as he slipped on the shirt and pants.

Christine was already back in bed, pulling up the covers just as the bedroom door burst opened and they were immediately assaulted by two pouncing hellions.

Christine was laughing as a small boy and girl were on top of her, tickling her on both sides. Erik stared in bewilderment as they looked no more than eight-years-old. The boy had Christine’s chestnut shade, while the girl’s head was black as a raven’s wing. Then they turned to look at him as a devilish expression—both identical—spread over their faces.

“Gotcha Daddy!” The girl cried as she dove with her hands out to deliver the same greeting as she did with Christine.

Erik caught her, lifting the child into the air, to avoid the unpleasant torture only to have his attention knocked the wind out of him at what she called him.

_Daddy?!_

A clearing of a throat alerted a newcomer in the room. Erik looked in the doorway, his blood running cold as a twelve-year-old boy with blonde hair crossed his arms.

“Lotte and Gus! I told you not to disturb them.”

Lotte stuck out her tongue. “They’re awake. Gus and I heard them before we came in.”

“Ah, it’s all right Raoul. Come here and give Mommy a hug,” Christine said, beckoning the boy with her arms stretched.

A smile grew and Raoul did exactly that as he ran into his mother’s embrace.

Children.

Christine, a mother…

And Raoul?!

_That vial was more potent than I thought._

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After the morning greetings, Christine ushered the children out to get ready. When the last scampered away Erik still found himself in a stupor.

None of it seemed real, and yet…

He pinched the inside of his arm, wincing at how _real_ that felt; however, to wake and find Christine in bed with him, and the children was an incredible feat of imagination. Even in his wildest fantasies he had imagined an innocent kiss or a simple touch of a loving caress. It was more than he would ever expect for a creature like himself. Nevertheless, Christine did not seem fazed or bothered in being in bed with him and she wasn’t coiling away in fear. Furthermore, the children did not seem upset either and their faces…

He mentally shook his head. That was a thought he did not want to pursue. Indeed, Erik wasn’t fond of children. He found them to be an irritating nuisance prone to hysterics and too curious for their own good. The ballet rats were called to mind, especially little Giry who had the propensity to tell tall tales and frighten herself and her cohorts with her overactive imagination. Their constant meddling and childish pranks and games only served to further his annoyance rather than inspire paternal feelings. Erik never wanted children, and he certainly never wanted to be anyone’s father. Not to mention that any child of his would undoubtedly be cursed with the same disfigurement and the cruel cycle would repeat itself.

Despite his best intentions _not_ to think about it, Erik found himself pondering over those three (yes, even the fair haired one) and neither one possessed a single marking or blemish that would otherwise indicate they were fathered by the Devil’s Child himself. Were they even his?

He frowned as the girl—Lotte—had the same exact shade as his before he had to rely on a wig to give him the same distinguish air for his Opera Ghost persona. As for her name, he was not surprised that it came from Christine’s childhood stories. He had heard plenty of Little Lotte and her Angel of Music, so this part of the hallucination made perfect sense. But the hair… Reaching up, he tugged a strand of hair off his head. The prick in his scalp meant he was not wearing a wig, and upon inspection, it was black as the little girl’s.

Maybe she was _his_ after all.

Just then Erik had a vision of Christine carrying _his_ child: her belly swelling and glowing with such precious life, and her cradling the newborn babe against her breast. If it was possible her beauty was enhanced even more with the sculpture of motherhood upon her body and he felt a surge of primal pride that they were linked together with the final product that was evidence of their love.

Until the vision was instantly deflated at the memory of her spurning him for the Vicomte, and it was now the Vicomte who had the honors of watching the glory of motherhood being gifted upon her. His blood began to boil over the idea of that _boy_ touching Christine. And yet, she _welcomed_ the Vicomte’s embrace and his kiss while recoiling from _him_.

He observed this Christine as she readied herself and wondering if she was pregnant by choice or if—

_No!_ Erik couldn’t stomach the thought of forcing himself on his Angel. It must have been consensual, but why?

“I hope you’re not planning on staying in bed all day. We have a lot to do,” Christine said as she removed her nightgown to put on the outfit she had grabbed from the closet. Immediately, Erik looked to the ceiling to avoid seeing the perfection and beauty that was presently in front of him. As tempting as it was—illusion or no illusion—he didn’t want to invade her privacy. It was silly, really, but he had too much respect for her to indulge his baser desires. Although, knowing she was there and her disregard for modesty must mean it was all right for his eyes to see…

By the time Erik reached a decision Christine was already dressed and the clothes she was wearing were _strange_.

As far as he could tell, she wore no corset, skirt, or dress. Her curves were hugged and defined with a blouse of some sort and trousers that were molded to her legs, accentuating her muscles and derrière. _That_ detail did not escape him as she walked into the adjoining bathroom.

He gulped as the image was branded into his memory, and he could not find himself in objection with the garb. His newly acquired knowledge told him it was a quite common item of clothing and casual in its purpose.

He heard running water and he was reminded that he was here for the present moment until his drug-induced stupor would go away. Christine’s earlier comment had him rising from the bed as he walked around the room, trying to figure out where his clothes might be in this place. Staying in bed did not sound appealing nor was it ideal. Not to mention Erik was curious to see how the rest of this bizarre experience would go.

While he rummaged through the closet for something to wear, he heard a crackling noise followed by a keen whimper. He looked over his shoulder to Christine’s side of the bed and her nightstand where an upright, rectangular shape with a thin pole sticking out on top. The noise was originating from that object.

Erik stared at it as another whimper came through before a punctuated sob. His mind didn’t automatically correct him as he pondered what sort of device that was. He approached it, lightly tapping the object as the sobs started to blend in one continuous sound. He vaguely heard the footsteps from behind until Christine’s voice caused his spine to go rigid.

“Is the baby fussing?”

“B-baby?” he repeated hoarsely. _There was another child?!_

On cue, the baby’s fussing continued, and Christine left to attend the baby. Alone now, Erik still was wrapping his brain around with this newfound information. Part of him still couldn’t accept what he was seeing, while the other half-believed it to be a very convincing morphine-induced vision. After all none of it could be probable. Christine loathed him, his face frightening and abhorrent, and the intimate exchange on the rooftop said it all.

“Guess who’s up to say good morning to Daddy?”

Erik turned to find Christine had returned with a cooing and no longer fussy infant who was blowing spit bubbles and waving one arm about. Christine laughed, rubbing noses with the child. She could have been no more than a year old, maybe seven or eight months. The top of her head was fair but there were wisps of light brown hair showing through. No doubt she was going to have Christine’s curls, and her eyes were two clear sky blues.

Beautiful. Perfect.

The idyllic image was too much for him to witness. And there was that word again… Daddy. A role that felt as foreign as this scene. His expression must have said this as Christine’s smile suddenly fell.

“Erik, are you okay? You’re awfully quiet.” Then in a frenzied, worried tone: “You’re not falling ill, are you?”

_No, I’m not okay. None of this is real. You left me to be with your dashing and handsome Vicomte._ Instead, he licked his dry lips and said, “My mind is preoccupied. I am well.”

Understanding flickered in her eyes. “The show. I don’t blame you in that case. It has been on my mind too. Well, it was until last night. You know how to distract a girl!” Her tone was teasing yet he blushed in spite himself. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll make breakfast. Can’t have the troops starving.” Then with that departing remark, Christine sashayed out of the room.

xxXXxx

It took him a little longer to decide what to wear. Surprisingly, the hallucination not only brought one of his fantasies to life, but it also happened brought him to the future. He was picking up little things that would suddenly spark in his head—tidbits that would float to his memory and he knew what it was. Like he knew it was 2020 even though it was 1881. And he knew how to make a decent Windsor’s knot, even though he never wore a tie let alone knew what constituted it as a Windsor knot.

The paradox of having this strange information along with what he knew as the past (present?) was baffling. How could it be both? How could he and Christine exist now and then? Or was it now and the yet to come? Then there was the matter of the Vicomte de Chagny.

The young boy he saw was identical to the fop, except just a miniature version and age appropriate as far as Erik was concerned. But he could not be rid of the nuisance even in this inducement. Still the Vicomte plagued him, reminding him of the misery that would await Erik when he woke up. _Actually, woke up_. It was a small mercy that the boy in this present state was not a romantic rival; however, the issue of the boy’s paternity was another story.

Nevertheless, Erik dismissed it. He would not be here much longer anyways, although he could enjoy this fantasy while it lasted.

Dressed in a fine suit that was tailored to him, Erik had to commend the taste and quality. Again, there was a quiet whisper that it was Hugo Boss, but Erik hadn’t the faintest who that was or why would someone’s name be attached to clothes.

Stepping out of the room, Erik began to move down the hall, pausing to glance in the opened rooms. It appeared the children were on the same level with the closest bedroom being a nursery.

_Two girls and two boys._

Surely, this was a joke. Yet he found the nursery oddly pleasing to the eye. Suitable for a baby with a sophistication that would not fade as she grew older. The walls were a blush color with hand-painted red roses on dark green vines entangled together as a border. The crib had a black finish with a curvature headboard against the wall with a padded mattress along the inside. The mobile above was rosebuds and tiny swans—all of it appeared to be handmade. The rest of the furniture: a bureau, changing table, and rocking chair were in a similar finish as the crib with various toys scattered about.

The next room was for a girl too, and it had the same level of flair as the nursery so when Lotte became older it would not feel childish. There was a clear interest in music with a piano keyboard in one corner and a child’s size violin case propped next to it. Music sheets were on the floor—a few blank but mostly scribbled on—the notes were clearly scrawled in a child’s hand. Lotte was interested in composing, something Erik had not considered, which caused a warm fondness to spread through his heart.

She had a bookcase filled with an array of fairy tales, music books, and classic literature for children. Lotte was highly intelligent, wise for her age, and he felt such a strong connection that he had little doubt Lotte had him wrapped about her finger.

The next room was a decent size bathroom for the children. After that was the boys’ bedroom.

Gus and Raoul shared it, and each side was custom to fit each boy. Indeed, the styles were quite distinct that it left no question who rested their heads where. The left side was a navy-blue wall with a similar musical influence as Lotte’s had. There was a keyboard along with a piccolo and flute in the corner with an assortment of puzzle boxes stacked in the bookshelf. Over the bed was a completed puzzle of the world framed along with a 3D structure of the Eiffel Tower on the nightstand.

The opposite side was a stark contrast.

Instead of a dark blue, the walls were a brighter shade of blue. There was no evidence of musical influence; rather, the décor lend itself to more of physical pursuits. The pictures on the wall, and even the objects scattered on the right were unfamiliar and foreign to Erik. The books he found were in bright colors and block letter titles with pictures on the covers. The names of the books were stranger too: _Superman, Captain America, Spiderman, The Flash,_ and _Justice League_. All the characters wore eccentric costumes with symbols emblazoned on the torsos.

Erik couldn’t help but cringe as he opened one and promptly put it away. It was nothing but pictures with few words. How anyone could read such chaos on a page was a mystery.

He made his way down the stairs, already hearing breakfast was underway. The children were chattering away, the baby strapped in a highchair with Christine flitting back and forth as she handed each child their desired selections: a bowl of crispy flakes for Raoul, a rectangular shaped pastry in chocolate to Lotte, and a similar shape pastry but vanilla with sprinkles to Gus, and a tiny jar of pale-yellow goo with a fruity aroma for the baby. Christine had made cinnamon oatmeal with slices of apple for herself.

Erik saw a bowl next to the saucepan and assumed it was for him. The ladle was propped inside the pan, and while this wasn’t ideal, Christine made it and he was going to cherish the fact she cooked for him rather than the other way around. He scooped a couple ladles worth into his bowl and sat in the empty chair between the baby and Raoul.

Looking around, he noticed the children were absorbed in eating and talking to each other and Christine. She was also multi-tasking with taking turns to feed the infant and herself. Erik picked up his spoon and dipped it into the concoction before raising it to his lips. Part of the mask that covered his upper lip made it difficult to place the spoonful in his mouth unless he lifted the impediment.

When Christine was his guest, he would wait until she was asleep to have his meals. He didn’t want her losing her appetite at the risk of watching him, and Erik felt himself in the same predicament now.

Surely no one would notice if…

But he hesitated and set his spoon beside the bowl. He watched as the steam rising from the contents started to dissipate becoming cooler.

“Are you _sure_ you’re not coming down with something?” Christine asked, her lips pursed together in a frown. “It’s not like you to not eat your favorite oatmeal.”

_His_ favorite?!

The children were also staring at him now, the looks making him uncomfortable and this was supposed to be a falsehood, and this shouldn’t bother him (he must have _some_ control over this, right?), and yet he was beginning to feel quite the imposter in this world when suddenly, his stomach began to grumble in protest. He never felt such hunger pangs before, at least not while he was under the morphine’s influence, and for a second, he was starting to question perhaps there was more to this hallucination than he originally perceived…

The infant’s giggle broke the tension and while Christine’s attention was diverted in the moment, the other three still maintained their gazes on them. Lotte, who was now bearing a similar puckered frown on her countenance like her mother, arched her dark brow as she nodded to his mask.

“Daddy, you know you can’t eat with that on.”

That one little comment rendered Erik thoroughly chastised in a way he couldn’t explain. She was nothing but a child! But he felt incredibly small and ridiculous and it was a feeling he loathed and one that only caused certain painful memories to resurface. However, he didn’t lose his temper and lifted a shaky hand to the porcelain. His fingertips grazed the smooth plaster, electrifying to the touch, and still he wavered.

The decision was made for him when he felt the mask disappeared, and to his astonishment, it was not because of his proclivity but rather Lotte! The stubborn girl made her way around the table without his notice and abscond the mask. Clutching her prize, she walked back to her seat and set the mask next to her plate. The challenging glint in her eyes was very much like him that it nearly took his breath away. Gus was looking off to the side while Raoul tilted his head, regarding him with a silent appraisal. Christine, on the other hand, realized what had transpired and reached over to take his mask from her daughter.

“Lotte, you know you shouldn’t take your father’s mask.” The tone in her voice offered no other explanation and Lotte’s hard expression retreated as she played with the crumbs on her plate.

“I know but I—” Her voice was very childlike, and Erik forgot she was only a child despite the sense of maturity around her. He had to surmise it was her eyes that made her appear wiser than her age—a striking blue that was almost violet—and it struck him that they were his mother’s eyes. The only difference was that Lotte held no contempt, disgust, or anger in them. They were wide and beguiled and full of curiosity. “I’m sorry Daddy but you can eat now.”

Even with his face exposed, there was not a shriek of horror from anyone around the table. Instead, they resumed their breakfast and conversation with Gus announcing it was his turn to take care of Mr. Cuddles that day. The boy’s excitement was palpable as he explained his coveted responsibilities, which entailed feeding the pet, cleaning the cage, and singing to him. Apparently, it was an honor in his classroom to be chosen.

With the focus deflected off him, Erik’s stomach continued its urging demand. He gathered it wouldn’t hurt to eat the oatmeal before it really cooled down, and no one else paid him any mind…

To his surmounting surprise, the oatmeal was quite good. Delicious, in fact. The cinnamon provided a burst of flavor that left his tongue tingling. While he ate the conversation switched to Raoul and a science project that was coming up, he would have to work on.

“Erik, you should help him. You know more about that stuff than I do,” Christine said, and he glanced over at the boy who didn’t seem thrilled at the prospect. Well, the feeling was mutual.

Christine checked her watch, eyes widening as she stood up. “Okay, gang! We have to get going. Clean up your dishes; grab your lunches, backpacks, and coats. No grumbling! It’s cold out there.”

The children dutifully took turns in rinsing out their plates and cups before placing them in a rack and closing the door. Then they collected their respective lunch bags from the counter—Lotte, a blue bag with snowflakes and Elsa ( _Frozen? What the Hell is that?_ ); Gus, a blue and green bag with a shark; and Raoul, a red and black bag with a group of costumed men with _Avengers_ in bold letters. At least Gus’s was something Erik could understand, but the other two not so much. Their backpacks were already resting against the kitchen doorway and they grabbed their own before heading to the front door where their coats hung nearby.

Christine placed the dishware for Erik and her in the same contraption as the children and dumped the remaining oatmeal into the sink and filled the pan up with water. She closed the door with her toe; scooped up the baby and picked up a large bag and a purse in a speed unlike Erik had ever seen as she scurried out. Erik knew he had to follow but first he put on his mask and all felt well again in the universe. Now he could see what else this strange place had to offer. Before walking out, he stopped as he recalled Christine’s firm reminder to the children about their coats. It had been snowing when he was on the rooftop, but he had not felt the chill then. Presently, he felt the chill at the thought and grabbed the remaining long, thick coat that was presumably his.

He did not know what to do to close the jacket as there were sharp, jagged strips on either side. But there were buttons that clasped so he did that and stepped out.

For a second, he halted his footsteps as he took in the scenery in front of him.

There was an even blanket of snow that covered the lawn and a dusting over the shrubs and tree and the sun was shining so bright… It was a stark contrast to what Erik lived with in the dark and cool beneath the opera house. Even the lake appeared black and murky, completely absent of color and light, and yet he had not expected the sensory overload.

Then his eyes were drawn past the walkway to--- _What the Hell is that!?_

It was a strange carriage near the house, and even though his mind registered it as a Town and Country van (what made it a town and country he could not discern), Erik for the life of him, wondered how one was supposed to travel when there was not a hitch for a horse or how one controls the reins when the driver’s seat was replaced with a glass barrier. His gaze looked to the roof but even that did not seem plausible for it was smooth and anyone could roll off the top.

However, he was soon answered when the side door magically opened without anyone touching the handle. _What sorcery is this?_ He wondered as the children hopped inside one by one. Christine walked around to the other side of the van where there was seat on top of another seat. His feet began to move as he watched Christine placed the infant in the smaller one, fussing with the straps until she was satisfied that the child was secured.

Running a hand through her hair, Christine looked at him through the open doors. “Do you want to drive?”

Did he want to…? He gave the vehicle a onceover and shook his head. He had no idea where to start in operating such a thing.

“All right. Can you get that door then?”

He watched as Christine pressed something and the door on her side began to move on its own, closing completely. Erik looked on his side, uncertain what she did that caused it to close, but Lotte took notice and pointed to the button he needed.

“Um, right. Thank you,” he muttered, pushing it, and stepping back as the door shut.

Christine was already next to him as she opened her door. Since she was driving, he supposed he should go to the passenger side. At least he could figure out how to open his door and he climbed inside. The bench, or rather the chair, was a soft leather and quite pleasant to sit upon. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Christine pulling something over her shoulder and across her chest. Another glance behind him indicated all the children (except for the baby) had a similar strap across their chests as well. Assuming he had to wear one too, Erik found his and clicked his seatbelt in.

A thundering roar startled him from his reverie as Christine pulled a large knob by the steer downward and a moving picture popped up on a screen. Mystified, he found the entire experience intriguing and enjoyable. It was the last word he would use to describe anything but music; nevertheless, Erik rather liked the fast-moving vehicle. Traveling did not seem to take long, except when Christine came to a stop whenever there was a red light. He found the act waiting and sitting tedious. Furthermore, he did not like that other people would stare at him through the window. Although, one direct glare fixed the problem, and they would stop looking.

Finally, they arrived at their location where there was a long, winding line of other vehicles—all in different shapes, sizes, and colors—and another line with the exact same long rectangular size bodies and ghastly yellow exterior. Children were shouting and running everywhere with parents not far behind them. It was chaotic and messy, and Erik couldn’t help but feel he was on display again. But only a few appeared to have noticed his mask. Everyone else had a plan in mind as they all moved towards the building— _Kay Elementary._

Christine pulled alongside the curb, put the car in park, and pushed a button as the backdoors started retracting.

“Have fun at school!” Christine chirped with a chorus of “I love you,” “I will,” and “Don’t forget your backpack!”

Raoul was the last to leave and Christine shouted after him, “Good luck!”

This made him look back and smile before joining his siblings.

Erik briefly wondered why the boy needed such declarations, but his attention was riveted on the number of parents going every which way and that as Christine maneuvered the van masterfully until they were on the road again. He wanted to ask where they were going now but thought better against it. What should it matter? He was going to wake up any moment now to his underground home and Carlotta’s horrible screeching.

About fifteen minutes later, Christine was pulling up the driveway of another house. This one held no recognition for him, but there was an unexplainable feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Christine turned off the ignition and sighed. “I know you probably don’t want to go inside. Last time was a doozy between you and Mom. But I hope you know that she means well, and I’m not taking any sides, but…” Christine stopped, shook her head. “We can talk about it later. I’ll just drop the baby off.”

Erik was bewildered over what Christine said. Mom? Her Mom? As far as he knew her mother had died when she was a girl, and her father raised her until his own untimely death. _Curiouser and curiouser_ , he thought.

True to her word, Christine returned in a few short minutes. There was a line of tension on her forehead, but she shrugged it away, and even giggled.

“At least we’re going to make it on time. Although, if I was late, then I’m sure my boss would understand.” Her teasing voice was back, and this time Erik didn’t blush. Rather he chuckled as something about the joke began to connect the dots, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was exactly.

Until the building appeared and a chill went down his spine.

From a distance it was like he was looking at two different buildings but approaching closer it was evident they were attached: with one side clearly dated and one that rang with familiarity to him, while the other side was sleek and completely modern. Indeed, it was a collision of two time periods forged together, much like his presently addled mind. He would have found the comparison droll were it not for the fact that the name Opera Populaire was emblazoned along the canopy.

It could not be and yet…

This was not the Opera Populaire he remembered. There was no Apollo’s Lyre on the roof! There was no staircase leading up to the entrance, no grandiose statues! Just windows and brick and marble. An ordinary theater, a humble opera house. Erik did not know what to think of it.

As Christine drove past the older side of the building, Erik immediately noticed the posters, which brought him a mixture of pleasure and trepidation:

_Coming Soon_

_Don Juan Triumphant_

_Composed and Directed by Erik Campbell_

_Starring Christine Campbell_

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It didn’t take him long to put two and two together that he was a world-renowned composer.

When they entered the theatre, Erik followed Christine through the corridor where there was a long line of posters bearing his name on numerous productions. Then, she led him to his office where the walls were decked out in photographs and newspaper clippings featuring reviews and articles about Erik Campbell and his operas. Many of the photos had him alongside someone of prominence and prestige, but no one he knew, and he thought someone with three names would stand out in his memory at least.

However, the only pictures that captured his attention were of him and Christine. It was obvious they had known each other for some time, which was true, he had to admit. He had been teaching her for a few years as the Angel of Music.

Unfortunately, Erik did not have enough time to inspect them closely as Christine was softly calling his name.

“We better get going. I know you want to get as much rehearsal time in as possible.”

Right. _Don Juan Triumphant_.

What would he discover about his masterpiece and his life’s work in this place? Part of him was filled with trepidation, the other with anticipation. In another time, his work was not finished yet and if this theatre was already rehearsing the production, then it was completed. Erik had an idea on how his opera would end and wondered if this vision would provide him with that concept.

Or it could be revealed to be a nightmare and the production a total disaster.

Either way, he followed Christine to the auditorium where there were already dozens of people milling around as backdrops and props were being assembled, lighting was being tested, and the orchestra was tuning up. The dancers were on stage stretching while some of the cast was scattered about doing vocal warmups. There were a few others—presumably, producers—sitting with the scripts in their laps as they converse amongst themselves.

Yet as soon as he and Christine entered the entire atmosphere shifted and silence settled throughout as all eyes were on them. It was unnerving, more so than when the children were looking at him, but there was no judgment or fear or disgust. Rather they were gazing at him with _reverent respect_. Only a few had terror on their faces, but he had the supposition due to their young ages that this was new for them. And they swarmed him asking if he needed any coffee or the libretto or anything.

_Interns_ flitted through his mind and glanced at Christine, who was inconspicuously covering her mouth to muffle her giggles. Then one young girl, a redhead, turned to Christine and asked if there was anything, she could get for her.

“Not right now Nadia. But thank you.” Christine tossed another grin in his direction before she sashayed down the aisle where another singer attempted to hand her a copy of the libretto. She shook her head, tapping her temple, and the others all gave a chuckle.

Naturally, she would have it memorized. Erik couldn’t help the thrill of pride in her. She was a born star and there was the same admiration and respect found on her fellow cast countenances. Christine was recognized and exalted as far as he could tell which was exactly what he wanted her to have. And she was no shrinking violet with the attention on her. She literally _glowed_ with the ease of being the lead soprano and he was once more reminded that this vision implied that many years had clearly passed.

Though there was no time to ponder as the cast and crew were waiting for him to give the orders.

For so long Erik wanted to command such attention, to be able to direct and supervise without the repercussions that his face would inevitably bring and forced to rely on threats and written notes to make sure his will was enforced.

But now…

He was in front of all of them—all eager and keen to carry out his wishes—to follow his lead as he was the composer and director.

Taking a step forward, Erik announced:

“Let’s begin with Act 1 Scene 1—Don Lorenzo’s garden!”

xxXXxx

Indeed, it was refreshing to be working with professionals. _With talent_. And why shouldn’t he? He had hand-picked them all.

Not _him_ per-say but they were exactly what Erik envisioned his characters to be. In addition, his vision of his opera was grasped by the crew. Everything was so _perfect_. Flawless. It practically brought a tear to his eye.

The one curiosity, though, was the male lead. Apparently, it was scripted that the lead would be a surprise and he was hearing whispers of speculation on who might be playing Don Juan. For now, someone from the chorus was filling in, which Erik assumed had to be the understudy. It was clear to Erik that man was lacking the confidence required of a leading man. As for who would be the title role, he heard names such as Josh Groban or Ramin Karimloo or maybe Lawrence Brownlee.

He had to wonder why that was the case but suppose that Don Juan was either not found or whoever he had hired was unable to attend. If the latter, Erik would not abide by such behavior so it must be the former. In the meantime, Erik was in his element with directing and guiding, even though he had not the faintest clue who these people were. Yet they did as they were told, repeating the scene or song over and over until he was satisfied. It was a vigorous, intensive rehearsal with plenty of critiques on his part; yet, Christine truly shined, embodying Aminta in every possible way. He knew she would be perfect and beholding her in the role only cemented what he knew in his soul all along.

As beguiled as he was with the production, his one-track mind did not take notice of the hours that passed. It was Christine who came forward to remind him that they would benefit from a break. Truthfully, he could have kept going but he was starting to witness his cast losing focus _and_ his stomach had to alert him that he was hungry.

Lunch break was called, and he was back in his office with Christine. She unpacked their lunches on his desk and as she did this Erik decided to inspect the pictures of his family closely. The children were in various frames all around his desk and he picked up one rectangular one that showed Christine with an arm draped over her expected belly and the other wrapped around his waist. She was smiling widely and to her left was Gus and Raoul—the boys both giving big, toothy grins; Lotte was standing between Christine and him, smiling demurely and almost shy-like (which Erik would not have described her as shy). Then there was Erik… He never saw himself with that kind of expression before; in fact, Erik did not possess a memory where he would be given the chance to look like this. Yet Erik was smiling, relaxed and carefree, with his hand on Lotte’s shoulder and his arm around Christine’s shoulder. He was wearing a flesh-tone mask that did not appear stiff or cold, but warm and friendly.

They were all standing in front of a white castle as a backdrop. The inscription _Disney_ was carved in the frame, and while he had no idea what that meant, Erik marveled at this seemingly happy family and he found himself wishing he could remember what transpired in that picture.

_But you know this isn’t real. What is there to remember?_

Christine, in mid-chew of her sandwich, arched her brow. “Are you _sure_ you’re okay Erik?”

Setting the photo back in its spot, Erik sheepishly insisted he was. “Why do you ask?”

“You had this funny look on your face just now. In fact, you have been acting strangely—”

“Mr. Campbell, I need to talk to you… Oh? Am I interrupting?”

Erik turned to see who the intruder was and the last person he expected to see in that doorway was the so-called prima donna herself, Carlotta Giudicelli. Oddly, she didn’t quite look the same from when he last saw her when he was taunting and mocking her during _Il Muto_. This Carlotta was voluptuous, not at all like the overindulgent soprano from his memory, and she was currently in her prime of physical attraction. With coppery, auburn hair pulled back in a loose bun, her emerald-green eyes focused as she spoke directly to Christine.

“I’m sorry Christine but I really need to speak with your husband about Lucia’s solo.”

She sounded contrite for disturbing their lunch, which was very un-Carlotta-like, but Christine stood up and flashed a friendly smile at her. “You know it’s not a problem Cara. I should probably return backstage and work on my blocking.”

Erik didn’t want her to leave (who knew when this ended, and he wanted Christine to be the last person he saw) but she was gone and leaving him alone with the diva. Yet was Carlotta the diva? There was no way she was not with Christine as his wife and he the owner of this theatre. So why in the world would he have employed her when all she did was screech rather than sing? Wait, Christine called her Cara. Did she have a different name in this vision? And, she didn’t have that over-the-top Italian accent. Perhaps this Carlotta as a manifest of his imagination made her amenable, but for what purpose?

Whatever it was, Erik was not seeing how she could be congenial. His first instinct was to order her out of his office, but Christine had left so he could not use his wife’s company as an excuse. As he was the composer and director, he supposed he would have to listen to what she had to say (already he was planning on dismissing her “ideas”). He unfurled his fingers, so they weren’t clenched as Carlotta/Cara closed the door and came to stand near his desk. However, his expression betrayed his annoyance as he asked in a clipped voice, “What about Lucia’s solo?”

She pursed her lips and chuckled throatily. “It’s nothing like that boss. Although if I were to be honest, I wish I had Aminta. Her songs are far more poetic than the spurned lover. I can’t help but feel like my character is nagging Don Juan instead of focusing on seducing him back to her graces. Think about the drama that can enfold if Lucia becomes the temptress. It will be the student turning the tables on the teacher. Don Juan would have no choice but to think perhaps Lucia is his equal after all.”

His eyebrows lifted at the comment and to make matters even stranger… she leaned forward as she took his tie in her hand and began stroking the material. “I hope you don’t think I’m being ungrateful. I’m not. Playing Lucia is an honor, but I must confess I cannot stop thinking about that night. You haven’t given me the chance to thank you properly for casting me in the first place.”

Her voice dropped a couple octaves, her eyes glowing with sultry fire.

However, her words had the opposite effect as Erik reclaimed his tie and leaned back in his chair to get away from her advances. What she was insinuating… it was downright ludicrous! There was no way he would have a remote interest in the woman. Not when he had Christine as his wife.

Cara seemed to be taken aback at the rejection, but she replaced her astonishment with a smile.

“I know you want to keep it a secret. I assure you I am the soul of discretion.” Then she had the audacity to wink before taking her leave.

Erik could only remain there in stunned silence as he glanced back at the family photos.

_It wasn’t possible…_ Or was it?

xxXXxx

Rehearsals continued until one of the assistant directors had to tell Erik that it was time to call it a day. Apparently, no one seemed at all surprised that he lost track of time.

To be honest, he wanted to forget the scene in his office with Cara. He was certainly questioning his sanity more so and was strongly considering that he should give up the morphine if his drug-addled mind is going to concoct that he had a liaison with Carlotta, even if she was different from the theatrical opera singer. But then he had to ask himself, _did that really happen?_

Cara conducted herself as a consummate professional on the stage, and he begrudgingly had to admit she could sing after all. Her voice could not compare to Christine’s, but it did not make him want to rupture his eardrums either. Indeed, casting her as Lucia was a smart choice and he had to wonder if the exchange had been a misunderstanding on his part.

Then again, why should he care? This was not even real.

Of course, Erik had failed to conclude that this hallucination he kept insisting upon, had lasted far longer than his past blackouts.

Christine drove again and she went back to her mother’s house. He stayed in the car while she collected the children. Apparently, her mother picked the other three up from school.

With everyone buckled in, Christine proceeded to head home. The twins were chattering about their day: Gus regaled the honor he had in looking after Mr. Cuddles. Lotte shared that there was a substitute teacher in music, and she didn’t know the basics of warmups or how to play the piano. The young girl volunteered to lead the class and she was able to get her classmates warmed up to practice “True Colors” for an upcoming concert.

Only Raoul was quiet, and Christine glanced in the rearview reflection of her son. “How was your day, hon?”

Instead of responding in length like his siblings, he shrugged and muttered, “It was all right.”

“All right? There must be more to it than that.” Christine looked at Erik and he didn’t know what to make of her expression or the fact she kept motioning with her eyes to behind them.

Finally, it was the nod of her head that Erik picked up she wanted him to look. Looking over his shoulder, he was still at a loss on what she expected him to do, but Raoul was refusing to look in his direction. The boy did appear agitated over something and Erik thought it best to leave it be. If he had something to say, then he would have said it.

Christine sighed.

xxXXxx

Dinner was a subdue affair compared to the talkative breakfast. Christine had prepared a delicious meal albeit simple one of pasta and apparently meatballs. It was not his milieu, but he did not want to hurt her feelings either. And Erik did take his mask off, leaving it beside his plate so as soon as he finished, he could put it back on.

The twins spoke back and forth with the baby babbling, but once more, Raoul was in a dour mood and seemed content in pushing his food around on the plate. Christine leaned over and poked Erik in the arm.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to ask him,” she whispered. “It would mean more coming from you than me.”

“What?” Erik was confused at her request. Why should he? He cared not a wink about Raoul and the boy would rather sulk in silence.

This time her hand stole to his lap and she sunk her nails into his thigh, catching him by surprise. “Just ask him about tryouts,” Christine hissed.

She released him and he instantly rubbed the sore spot, torn between awe and shock that his Angel would touch him in that way. Yet, he thought it would be best to obey her wishes.

“Raoul.” The name alone on his lips was a peculiar and foreign sound, and one that left a sour aftertaste. But pressed on he did. “Raoul how was your tryout?”

The boy jerked in his chair and blinked in rapid succession at the sound of Erik’s voice. Then, without warning, a smile took over his features.

“Coach said I need to work more on my free throws and defense, but I am quick. He said no one will be able to catch me during a game! We played a scrimmage and Tommy, my friend, he went to do a lay-up and it bounced off the rim, but I was able to grab it and get it in the basket. It was awesome! And—and this other kid… he tried to outrun me as he was dribbling, and I reached out and got the ball before he could score, and I passed it to Ryder, and he got three points! Our team was winning but then the others caught up and then…” The tone of his voice changed. “I tripped and lost the ball, and I scraped my knee Mom—don’t worry it didn’t hurt— but the other team stole it and got another basket. I don’t know what happened but every time I had the ball… I kept losing it. Then my team stopped trying to hand it to me when Coach called an end. He told us to come back tomorrow, but as we were leaving the gym, I saw Coach’s notes…

Raoul stopped midway as he could see how disinterested Erik was in his story.

He couldn’t help it! Erik had no idea what the boy was talking about only that it was clearly some kind of physical sport. Well, he did what Christine wanted and he asked the boy the question, which he more than answered. If the boy decided to stop, then that was his decision.

However, Gus had to pipe up. “What did you see?”

Raoul looked to Erik as if waiting for him to add something, but then continued. “I probably shouldn’t have looked at it. I was curious and there was a question mark next to my name. Well, it said ‘promising’ then question mark. So, I don’t know if I _will_ make it.”

“Look on the bright side. He asked you to come back. He wouldn’t have done that if he thought you weren’t good. And it could just mean that you have promise but you need more practice. Besides, practice helps a lot,” Lotte added. “We’re practicing for the concert and Mrs. French said I could perform one of my songs. I have to keep practicing for it to be good and you will too.”

“This is not like music Lotte. You can’t compare the two,” Raoul muttered.

“Indeed, you cannot,” Erik replied. “But it is obvious what the far superior one is.”

Raoul’s back went stiff. Then without saying another word, he left the table and disappeared. The twins wisely stayed quiet and even the baby got the message that it was best not to say anything. Erik continued to eat his meal, but Christine paled considerably then glared at him before she followed the boy.

Erik could not ascertain the meaning of such a look. He was right and she knew that too. Music was heart, body, and soul. It was more refine than anything!

Christine eventually came back to the table, picked up Raoul’s plate, and went to the sink. The twins finished and Christine gently smiled as she took each plate when it was handed to her.

“How about you take your sister and play while Daddy and I clean up?”

Lotte and Gus were all too happy to do as requested. With the children out of sight, Christine crossed her arms, her eyes hard. “Was that really necessary? You couldn’t even have _pretended_ for his sake?”

Her displeasure and vehemence had taken him aback. She _never_ had spoken to him like that! To invoke the Opera Ghost’s wrath was a fool’s mistake. But he had never encountered a mother’s wrath that would rival his own.

“I know you don’t ‘get’ the sports thing, but when are you going to open your eyes and realize this is not about you? This is about your son! It is bad enough Raoul feels he cannot live up to your standards. So, what if he is not musically inclined? He has other talents that should be recognized! Be proud of him. Act like you have an interest. Because Erik, so help me, I will not have you hurt _our_ son the way your parents hurt you!”

What could he say to smooth things over after such an impassioned speech? Not to mention, he thoroughly felt chastened. It was a foreign feeling and one that made him uncomfortable with every letter of the word.

“Christine…”

“Did you know that Raoul believes you don’t love him?” Christine continued. “That is _horrible_ he thinks that of his own father. I suggest you make things right before you regret it for the rest of your life.”

She watched him, expecting him to jump out of his seat and run up the stairs to assuage the boy’s emotions. For a second, Erik remained in his spot, uncertain what to say or do. Logically, his mind was telling him that none of this real and therefore didn’t matter if he made amends or not; however, he could not refuse Christine, even if she wasn’t real.

He removed himself and proceeded to head to the boy’s room all the while wondering if he could be good of an actor to feign affection for his enemy. Indeed, he was only a child, but Erik could see the Vicomte in those boyish eyes, and his disinterest was a kindness compared to what Erik really wanted to do.

Even as he stopped in the doorway, Erik’s quick mind could not conjure a good enough excuse to explain his presence. All he did was watch the young Vicomte sitting cross-legged on the bed, peering over the contents in a rectangular shape box. The boy picked up a photo that brought a tiny grin on his face.

But Erik’s shadow was cast over him and Raoul quickly placed the picture back and closed the box’s lid.

For a minute, they just eyed each other, silently wondering who was going to speak first. At last, it was Raoul.

“Mom sent you, didn’t she?”

What was the point of lying? Erik nodded. “She did.”

The boy sighed. “You don’t have to do this. I know how you feel about sports.”

Clearly this was not the first time this conversation took place. Erik wished he knew the script to this so he could bypass the awkwardness and leave the boy to his idleness. But as no such thing materialized, he was left to his devices to determine the direction of this scene.

“If that is true, then why bother to get upset? You already know my opinion.”

Raoul shrugged, looking away. “I guess I thought it would be different. But if I don’t make the team…” He didn’t finish.

The boy’s wistful tone was pitiful, and Erik knew he could walk away and that would be the end of this farce. In fact, the boy was probably expecting him to do that. Yet Christine’s words echoed he had to make it right, but he had no notion how to begin.

Well, he tried, didn’t he? As far as Erik was concerned, he fulfilled Christine’s wish.

When his father left, Raoul looked back at Erik’s retreating form. “I know I would disappoint you more,” he whispered. Sighing, he opened the shoebox lid to take the picture out again. Looking at the man on it, he said:

“You would have understood.”

xxXXxx

Bedtime came for the children. The twin’s groaned and Raoul tried bargaining for another episode.

“Murdoch can’t let Gillies get away with framing Julia!” he protested.

After the tense dinner and events thereafter, Raoul did eventually leave his bedroom to join the family to watch _Murdoch Mysteries_. The boy’s behavior was no longer dour but amiable and Christine seemed overjoy that he was there. If she was happy then that was all that mattered. Meanwhile, Erik found this “show” rather intriguing, but he still preferred his operas as a source of entertainment.

“You know how it goes,” Christine said with a mother’s knowingness.

“Yeah, but I still want to see it again.”

“Uh-huh. Not when it’s a school night. C’mon gang!”

Erik didn’t know the children’s habitual routine, but as he knew this fantasy would be coming to an end, he wanted to watch Christine in this domestic environment.

Erik stood in the background as she hustled the kids into pajamas, teeth brushed, and the bedtime story.

Raoul—too old for a story—said his good nights (even to Erik) and went to bed. It wasn’t long after that the rest gathered around on Gus’s bed as it was his turn for the story’s location.

Christine sat against the headboard with a twin on both sides, and the baby in her lap. Erik leaned against the doorway as he listened to Christine read about a little bird looking for his mother.

She was a natural storyteller with her voice changing for each character. The children were riveted up until the end. Exhaustion had crept up, so Christine kissed Gus on the forehead as she slid off the bed. Lotte was yawning but she held her sister for her mother so Christine could say good night to Raoul, bending down to kiss his forehead.

Next it was the girls’ turns.

Erik followed as Christine put Lotte to bed and bestowed her nightly kiss. The baby was now in his arms after Christine transferred her to him so she could tuck in Lotte. The trust this child had in him was incredible. She did not shudder with his monster’s hands cradling her, those hands which only knew suffering and death. It was everything he could have hoped for and a cruel trick all in one as this was only a figment of his imagination.

He caught Lotte’s eye as she hugged her mother and whispered something into her ear. Christine whispered something back and her head bobbed lightly and gave her another kiss before the little girl rested her head on the pillow.

As Christine approached him, she held her arms out to take the baby from him. He was too grateful to hand the infant over as Christine placed the last child into bed.

Alone at last.

As strange and bizarre this day started, Erik was relieved to have this time with Christine. Perhaps this was his final moment with her before waking up cold and alone. He wanted to make the most of this as she quietly closed the bedroom door behind them.

When Erik turned around, the last thing in the world he expected was Christine tightly clenching her fists as she trembled in rage. She strode right up to him, jutting her face into his as she demanded:

“Who the Hell are you?”

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

“Who the Hell are you?”

Erik stiffened, not sure how to respond. He hardly knew who he was in this place and to be confronted just confirmed what he had already known all along. This could _not_ be the drug induced hallucination he thought himself to be in. It had been a tickle in the back of his mind—after all how long could this go on? Not to mention, the vividness of all these strange things and people could not be entirely made up.

“Did you hit your head? Is this some kind of joke? Because I’m telling you, Erik, so help me… this is not funny. None of this is funny.” Her blue eyes flashing with warning and Erik wanted so desperately to assure her, to keep up with the pretense, but he suddenly felt so weary. He was out of his element. This was not his life. This was not his. Nothing about this would ever be his, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

As the silence stretched on, a dawning light slowly began to appear over her face. As if the mask was falling off to bare the truth. Disbelief crept into her eyes as she slowly began to shake her head, not wanting to believe and yet…

“I don’t even know _how_ this is possible. You look _like him_ ; you sound _like him_ ; you even have the same passion for music _like him_ …” Her voice trailed off as he did not deny what she was saying. “But you are **not** my Erik.”

There it was. It was out in the open.

He flinched at her tone and her words. He couldn’t explain it, but this felt like the Angel of Music deception all over again. Only this time he committed the most heinous crime: _pretending to be a husband and father_. How could he justify his actions to her? He only did it because he believed this to be a fantasy. That no harm would come from it. Yet, when it came to her, Erik would always pick the lie. He lied about being an Angel, sent from God and Heaven, and he lied that he was this Erik Campbell… her husband. Always damned to make the same mistakes.

Always damned to hurt Christine.

But this Christine would not cower or cry. She was not a child, her head full of dreams and fairy tales. She was a woman. A woman who right now was filled with righteous anger, her voice unforgiving as she declared him to be not hers. No… he would never be hers, just like she would never be his. It seemed that destiny and fate would see to that.

So caught up in his own pathetic self-deprecation, he failed to realize that Christine was talking, processing the unbelievable reality of the situation.

“…mask. That was a red flag. But he sometimes wears it in the house but only if the kids have friends come over. Even at the opera house you were acting odd, but then, he often acts that way whenever a new show is underway. Scatterbrained. Forgetful. He never really tried to learn people’s names. But the kids… The way you were acting around them… Like you didn’t know what to do and with Raoul…” Her hand went to her mouth as she closed her eyes. Her hand fell to her side, fist clenching, as she raised her eyes to him. “ _My_ Erik doesn’t see eye-to-eye either with Raoul’s interests. But he would have _never_ spoken so cruelly to him the way you did.”

She stepped forward, her chin jutting out as she levelled him a cold glare. “Tell me you hit your head. A prop hit you… something, anything that would make sense to me as to _why_ you’re doing this. To _our_ children. They know something is going on. Lotte asked me if you were really Daddy. I told her that _of course_ you’re Daddy. You were tired from work and you were acting silly. Tell me this is some sick, twisted idea for your next opera that you wanted to try out. Tell me!”

Erik forced himself to look at her. He wanted to tell her another lie. A lovely, perfect lie that would make it all better. Happiness was never going to be his so why put off the inevitable?

“I thought this wasn’t real.”

She blinked. “You _thought_ this wasn’t real? Are you kidding me? Newsflash: this is real.”

“I realize that now. But Christine—”

“No ‘But Christine.’ Tell me the truth. Why are you doing this?” She crossed her arms over her chest expectantly. “Well?”

There was no other way around this. “I didn’t think this was real because you didn’t _choose_ me.”

Her eyebrow rose. “I didn’t ‘choose’ you? What the Hell does that mean?”

“It means you thought me a soulless monster and would rather be with the handsome Vicomte! It means you promised him love and a lifetime of it!” he snapped and instantly regretted his tone as it was Christine’s turn to flinch.

“I don’t understand—” Christine started but he cut her off with a derisive laugh.

“Can you not? Look at me!” He ripped off his mask to bare it all. “This!” Pointing to his deformity, his voice continued with emotion. “You are frightened of this! It was a sight you couldn’t forget. Why would you want this when you could have such perfection?” Trembling, he replaced his face with the mask and looked away, no longer wishing to look her in the eyes with his shame. “It’s my fault. I drove you away. I lied, deceived, and tricked you into thinking I was an Angel. I lost my temper when you stole my mask. I _frightened_ you. And then after Buquet… My actions drove you into _his_ arms and _his_ insipid devotions.”

Taking a deep breath, he finally lifted his gaze back to her. “That is why I didn’t think this was real. Why I _desperately wanted_ this and why I deceived you once more. A monster can never have a happy ending.”

He expected to see the anger and the disgust still on her face. But some point during his speech, Christine was at a loss for words. She was staring at him oddly and then her arms slowly uncrossed as she blinked back tears.

“You really believe those things?” she whispered.

“Yes. I have blood on my hands. You witnessed the violence firsthand. How could I ever hope for you to see past my sins?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “All right, I would normally be alarmed by this, but none of this happened. You had never hurt anyone, and I certainly didn’t run to another man. A Vicomte you say? It doesn’t make any sense, but I can see you really believe this. I would say you had a nightmare, but the rest of _this_ doesn’t add up. Since this morning, you acted like me and the kids were all a surprise…”

“To put it mildly,” Erik said. “I thought I had died, and this was heaven.”

“Hold on. My brain is trying to wrap around all this. When did I supposedly choose this other man? When did you hurt someone?”

“Last night. During the performance of _Il Muto_ and you fled to the rooftop of the opera house with _him_ and I heard it all. Heard your vows of love and promises of summertime.” Erik couldn’t bring himself to tell her that the Vicomte, this other man was none other than Raoul de Chagny and he was their “son.” Even that was too bizarre to say aloud. “I would never forget that.”

“ _Il Muto_? We hadn’t performed that opera in years and the rooftop is not a place to go… What year do you think it is?” It was a sudden and random question that slipped from her, but somehow… depending on his answer… it would make sense of this alternative bizarre situation.

“1881.”

She paled. “One hundred thirty-one years ago?”

“One hundred thirty-nine but it is vivid and real to me. I know that really happened. Here… This is all new to me and yet I know things that I don’t know how. The morphine was indeed strong—”

Christine suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled up the right sleeve. Then she checked the left. “There are no marks…”

“No. In fact, I do not feel it in me at all,” Erik told her. Perhaps that was a miracle. “But I did inject myself before waking up to this.”

“I need to sit down.” Christine walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. Her fingers began rubbing her temples. “This is crazy.”

“And yet here we are.”

Shaking her head, Christine looked at him in puzzlement. “I need you to start from the beginning. Tell me everything you remember.”

Erik didn’t know what she intended the purpose to be, but part of him felt he owed her the truth for once. So, he complied.

xxXXxx

While her husband— _No, whoever and whatever is going on, this is not **my** husband_—spoke, Christine was facing turmoil of conflicting emotions. Logically, she told herself, that none of this was possible. That these events he described were nothing but fiction. Yet, he acted as if they happened yesterday with such explicit clarity. How could she easily dismiss that as nothing but an overactive and exhausting mind?

Her skeptical and rational side wanted to believe that Erik was overworking himself and nothing more. He had hit his head and is experiencing one of those weird cases of amnesia like in a movie. Except in the movie, it would be more of a humorous situation mixed in with some drama to balance the serious injury.

This was anything but that.

She suspected he was giving her the Reader’s Digest version about who he was. He mentioned his childhood as being one of misery and abuse and how he had to learn how to defend himself if he wanted to survive. Then he talked about how he walked the path of darkness in Persia ( _wait… isn’t that now called something else? Iraq, Iran?_ ) and eventually escaped to Paris. From there, he had hidden in the catacombs of the opera house where he found the light in _her_.

First, Christine knew her husband had a rough childhood. He was never physically abused but he and his parents never saw eye to eye. They were estranged now and while Christine wished for her children to have a relationship with their paternal grandparents, her in-laws had nothing but excuses about why the families could not get together. They did, however, send cards at the appropriate times for birthdays, Christmas, and their anniversary. She had stopped pushing Erik on the matter. He could be as stubborn as his parents and she learned that sometimes it was best until they are the ones to make that choice to extend the olive branch.

As for traveling through Europe and Persia (she wished she could remember what it was called now), they did go to Europe as a honeymoon. But not the Middle East. As far as she knew, Erik never went there himself.

When he mentioned how he met Christine, then she knew that this other life he claimed to have was beginning to sound believable. She was still warring with herself if she truly accepted this whole story, but she did accept that Erik believed it was true. And with those details… it was hard not to believe him.

She had been a young woman when they met… According to Erik, she had been in the opera house’s chapel saying a prayer for her recently deceased father and how she was longing for the Angel of Music to come to her aid. Before that, he had heard her sing on the stage when she thought she was alone. After hearing her sing, he had to see her for himself. Then the charade began.

From what Christine could surmise, this other Christine was sixteen or seventeen when he began his teaching and a couple years went by when he realized he was in love with her. Due to him claiming to be this Angel of Music, he couldn’t simply approach this Christine and so he had to employ some crafty ploys to convince her he was both man and angel.

Part of her wanted to laugh at the absurdity. This sounded like a soap opera and a horribly contrived one. She was _never_ that naïve or gullible even as a teenager! But Christine had to remind herself that Erik believed it was 1881 and she was resigned to admit that most young women were raised or kept as too innocent. In fact, Christine couldn’t see herself as this other Christine until he mentioned how she did have her imperfections. Christine wouldn’t call this a compliment, but she knew she could have a temper if pushed and this Christine had her moments when pushed too far. So maybe there was a similarity with the two. Of course, he mentioned that they were identically the same in appearance.

But Erik had mentioned there was a third person involved. So far, his narrative hadn’t included whoever this Vicomte was. Christine recognized the title as being nobility, but she could not remember the hierarchy. Not that it mattered. Anyways, he finally reached that part of the story.

“It was your debut performance of _Hannibal_ as Elissa. It was stupendous, magnificent! You sang to make the angels in Heaven weep with your beauty. I was waiting behind the mirror, ready to announce myself, when it was ruined with that _boy_ barging in with no propriety and being too familiar.”

Christine had to bite back the retort that he was the one behind a mirror in a dressing room no less. But it was not the time to contradict that glaringly obvious factoid when apparently a rival had made himself known.

A childhood sweetheart? Interesting. Indeed, he was a noble and handsome and impetuous and a fool and there was a laundry list of adjectives, but Erik felt he was losing her and had to act before he lost her forever. Instead of trying to win her affections, he only managed to frighten her and straight into the arms of the young boy he wanted to avoid.

Erik described how she removed his mask, the anger, and the fear, and how she barely looked at him knowing what was hidden beneath. If that rejection was not bad enough, then it only became nightmarish when he discovered how she really felt about him.

Now, his story was skipping and there were gaps missing, but the final nail was that Erik committed a horrible sin that drove this Christine into the loving embrace of the Vicomte.

Christine had swallowed the question on what it was that he did. He had mentioned there was darkness in him and that he had to resort to violence when necessary. And he did say there was blood on his hands. She paled knowing that it meant only one thing, but she had to tell herself that this wasn’t true. Her husband never harmed anyone, and he wasn’t wanted for any violent crime. So at least she could convince herself that this episode of murder was still part of this fabrication, but could she accept his story minus that detail?

“…Then I returned to my home and readied the morphine. I didn’t care if I died that night. Death would be welcoming compared to the heartache of knowing I lost you. Yet I woke to… this and it was perfect. It was everything I ever wanted despite the strangeness and I wanted to have one perfect day before I finally met my Maker and final Judgment.”

Erik could not meet her eyes during the duration of his retelling, but he sensed she had questions and he could not fault her. However, she patiently waited for him to finish before he lost his nerve entirely. So now he looked into her face as he awaited this judgment.

Her expression was hard to discern as a multitude of emotions were flashing across. She slowly rose from sitting this whole time and said:

“I need a drink.”

xxXXxx

Erik wasn’t sure what to expect Christine would say to him, but those were not the words he thought she would say.

Nodding to herself, Christine repeated, “I need a drink. I think you do too even if there is the slight possibility of brain trauma.”

She walked out of the bedroom and Erik followed. What else could he do?

They were quiet moving down the hallway to the stairs so not to disturb the children. Thankfully, all the bedroom doors were closed and so it seemed unlikely they would wake.

Christine turned on a lamp so there was some light, and she made her way over to the bar area that was in another room next to the family room and she didn’t hesitate to grab two glasses and a bottle of clear liquid. He followed her into the dining room where she had already turned on the light and was in the process of pouring the liquor into the glasses.

His glass was pushed towards him as he sat across from her. His hand enfolded around the drink, but he didn’t lift it to his lips.

Christine had already finished her shot and poured herself a second. She grimaced but she soldiered on. An unusual, unbidden thought came to Erik and he remembered that Christine wasn’t fond of straight liquor.

As if she read his thoughts, she said, “Tonight I am.” She finished her second drink and had a third already ready to go, but she didn’t drink it. She was biting her lower lip and her brows were creased as she was thinking about her next move. So, Erik felt he should do something, so he took a sip and had his own recoil of disgust. Erik rarely drank alcohol due to his own aversion to the beverage, but he decided he could hold his tongue as Christine polished her third.

Her hand reached for the bottle to pour a fourth, but she stopped. She wasn’t a light drinker and preferred vodka in mixed drinks, but she had to keep a levelled head. Or close to it.

At last, she broke her silence. “For argument’s sake, let’s say I believed everything you just said. I can accept that after all of that and waking up to find me and the kids would seem like a wild turnaround. In your shoes, I would find it difficult to believe it was real and going along for the ride would be easier than having to confront it. After all, you took a heavy dose of a drug so it would seem likely this was a hallucination. I can buy that, and I can buy the fact that in that situation… it would be difficult to know how to be a father.”

She paused and then poured herself that fourth drink. She picked up the glass and swished the liquid around. In her contemplative and reflective tone, she continued, “I would be upset too about me—um, her—going to someone else. Especially if you say you loved her. But Erik… what you said… as fantastic as it sounds… you are not totally guiltless either.”

“I know. I know I am going to be condemned for—”

“No, no. Look, let me get this off my chest and bear in mind that I am saying this from the standpoint of a woman in the 21st century: you took advantage of Christine. Grant it, I can’t believe she would believe you were the Angel of Music. I believe in miracles like most people, but that’s farfetched for me. Yet, you didn’t give her the chance to get to know you. You just assumed how things would go just like you assumed that she was frightened when she first saw your face.”

“She was! She was crying and trembling in fear!” he exclaimed.

“Quiet! I don’t want the kids to wake up,” she said. “Okay, I am not disagreeing with you, but did you talk to her? Did you find out if she was upset about your face or your temper? Because for me it would be the temper. Then again, I wouldn’t just rip the mask off your face either. That’s beside the point. Erik, there were a lot of bad decisions made and doing what you did… That wasn’t the answer. So, if this story is going to go anywhere… I would change a lot so there would be a possibility of a happy ending. For starters, apologize for being an ass and be more respectful and be less angry.”

Taking a deep breath, Christine resumed. “That said, I was also thinking about how _that_ and _this_ are connected. Maybe there was a body switch—a _Freaky Friday_ moment—and maybe my husband is in the 19th century. And the vodka does help in having it make sense. But the fact remains that realistically… this is too fantastical. So, I believe you and I don’t and you’re going to have to accept my feelings. There is also the fact that the children should not know this. It would be too complicated and that would be another situation that would be difficult to deal with. For now, the children are going to believe that you had an idea for an opera, and you were trying it out on us for genuine reactions to your bizarre behavior. God, saying it out loud does sound out of character for him, but this is the best I can think of right now. Is that understood?”

Erik nodded.

“Good. That settles the story we are going to have for the kids, and we are going to stick to it. So, you’re going to have to learn really quickly on how to be a daddy. I will help you and who knows… maybe your memory will come back magically. But this is not a debate—I am going to take you to see a doctor. Perhaps there is a medical explanation. Damn. There’s rehearsal and he would never cancel…”

To placate her, Erik said, “I agree that rehearsal should not cancel. Especially on my behalf. There is too much at stake for the opera. Maybe you’re right and I did hit my head, and this would seem like a dream.”

She had to chuckle. “I appreciate that. Okay. We will stick to the routine, but I reserve the right to take you to the doctor. No arguments.”

“Agreed.” The idea of going to a doctor did not suit him at all, but if it made Christine feel better. He would do it for her.

“We will tackle the rest as it comes. But at least this is a decent plan.” Christine said that more to herself than to him, but he concurred, nevertheless.

“Okay. That puts my mind at ease in that regard. However, I do have one more idea and this maybe a little Hollywood, but miracles can happen, right? You told me your story and what you remembered. Let me tell you what I know and maybe that might trigger something.”

“Please do. I am curious as to how… Well, how this came to be.”

“I do want to start and say that I don’t know a single person in the royal family or any noble person. At least not before my husband. I have sung for the President and his family, but that’s not royalty or nobility. But I did sing for the Queen when we visited England. You never mentioned the Vicomte’s name, but I can assure you… I have never met or hung out socially with a Vicomte. All right?”

He nodded once more.

“We didn’t meet when I was a teenager. I was twenty-four and you were thirty. But you were already a lot older in some ways and a typical man in others. I’m getting ahead of myself. I was running late to work you see…”

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now I am caught up with the Fanfiction.net post. I will add Chapter 6 a little bit later after I revise it. :)

**Chapter 5**

_Thirteen Years Ago…_

“Damnit. Damnit. DAMNIT!” Christine could _not_ believe she was running late.

It all started when her alarm didn’t go off. She knew she had it correctly set the previous night. She double-checked it! But the blaring beep never happen, and she woke up with just five minutes to dress and hop into the car. Then to make it worse, she had to have every slow driver in front of her and every red light on the way to the downtown area to the Opera Populaire.

Getting antsy, she kept tapping the steering wheel and staring hard at the traffic light, willing it to turn green. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” she muttered, as the seconds continued to tick away. At last, the light changed, and Christine hit the accelerator. Her eyes flickered to the clock by the radio and she had ten minutes to be in the theatre before her number was called.

In record time, she arrived and parked in the parking structure. She barely killed the engine when she was out and running to the building. So intently focused she was she barely had time to register that someone crossed in front of her path.

The impact was immediate and hard.

Pain shot through her bottom and her breath was stuck in her throat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a white object on the floor, but she didn’t have time to dwell on what or who it was she had run into.

Christine got back on her feet and quickly let out an apology before she continued to make her way to the auditorium.

The other unwitting victim just momentarily froze on the floor and couldn’t believe what happened. Only the sudden bare air upon his face had him discovering he lost his mask and the woman who ran into him hardly seemed to notice.

“What in the world…?”

Christine barged through the doors and was making her way down the aisle when Richard, the general manager, took notice of her. “Ah, Miss Daaé. Glad to see you joined us…” He glanced at his watch. “Cutting it really close, hmm?”

“Sorry Richard. My alarm didn’t go off and I—” But Christine’s explanation was abruptly cut off when he interrupted, “Here’s the schedule for today. It’s a good thing I saw you and not Mr. Campbell.”

He waved his hand, dismissing her, and Christine turned around and quickly took a seat while battling the oncoming warmth to her cheeks. She was usually more punctual but today was already looking to be one of those days if she didn’t turn it around. Especially since today was the day, they had the new director arriving for the new production of the season.

_New director, new producer, new everything_ , she thought. And Erik Campbell was sort of a big deal in the opera world. Indeed, she had to count her lucky stars she hadn’t arrived when he was speaking to the company and crew. As it were, she was still fairly new to the cast of the Opera Populaire even though it was going on close to two years. Yet, Christine still felt like the newbie and she didn’t want to draw any negative attention. Plus, Christine knew how lucky and fortunate she was in snagging a job after graduating from college.

She had been the top in her class, and she performed in all her school’s musicals in high school and in college. She had her fair share of lead roles and secondary roles. But this was the big leagues now. Since joining the theatre, Christine mainly performed in the chorus, but she did have a couple minor roles where she had a line or two or a brief solo. Eventually, she hoped to land a larger role, but she knew she had to work hard to get to it.

Ever since Richard had announced that Erik Campbell had selected the Opera Populaire for his next production, Christine had a feeling this might be it. This could be her big break if she could impress him with her vocal range. She was a soubrette soprano, not quite a coloratura… yet. She needed more practice, but she had the confidence she could reach leading lady status if given the opportunity.

Always the overachiever, she wanted to know more about Erik Campbell and what he was looking for in a singer. Perhaps, the knowledge would help give her an edge. That was what she had hoped for at least.

Yet truly little was known about Erik Campbell, which was strange in this digital age. However, Christine pressed on in her Google search about him.

In her research, she learned he was an eccentric genius who took the opera world overnight with his modern revision of Mozart’s _Cosi Fan Tutte_. Rather have Ferrando and Guglielmo as officers… they were businessmen who decided to trick their fiancées to determine if they were faithful by disguising themselves as foreigners from an exotic country looking for love. Dorabella details her loneliness and lament on her blog, including the harmless flirtation she decides to engage in; whereas Fiordiligi remains steadfast until her sister talks her into giving it a go, but not until she gets drunk so she wouldn’t feel guilty. The libretto and the music did have to go through a slight rewrite to accommodate the modern changes, but it actually worked in the end. The spirit of the original opera was intact, and audiences couldn’t get enough of it.

However, not all his work involved a modern updating of the classics. As a director he kept _La Bohème_ the same but did freshen up the scenery and costumes to make it feel almost new.

His earlier career focused on the greats and bringing a renewed interest in them. Then at twenty-five, he tried his hand in an original opera that was composed, written, produced, and directed by him. It was no shock that _Cornell Street_ became a hit and solidified his legacy.

Erik Campbell was putting opera back on the map.

Now he was working on his second original opera. The details were not known but that didn’t matter. His name alone was enough to attract attention for audiences and for performers who want to be the first on stage. The fact he single-handedly chose this city and opera house was an honor of honors.

Also, Christine couldn’t deny she was fascinated about the man who appeared out of nowhere with his talent. To her disappointment, interviews with the performers and stage crew who worked for him previously all signed NDAs and were unable to disclose anything pertaining to the aloof composer. They could talk about the show and each other, but Erik Campbell was a topic that was off-limits. On top of that, his personal life contained the bare minimum of information. He was several years older than her and he had traveled the world with his productions making a splash wherever he goes. He had earned college degrees from Juilliard and Princeton with accolades and honors.

Nothing about his earlier life as a child. Nothing about other personal aspects of his life. There was also not a lot of pictures of him either. The few she did find were usually taken on opening night of his productions. They all featured Erik Campbell’s profile, never a full view, and while everyone has a good side they want captured, this was something entirely. Perhaps it was due to his eccentricities, but it didn’t stop the Internet from being ablaze with rumors, theories, and conspiracies. It was said he wore a mask and what could be underneath ranged from plastic surgery gone bad to car accident to fire to birth defects to aliens kidnapping him and taking half his face for study. The latter was more tabloid than factual but there were a few other oddball stories along the same line from an undeveloped twin brother to Tu Pac selling parts of his face to a relative of Bat Boy.

They were all nonsense. But it proved that Erik Campbell was a private individual and he liked to keep it that way.

However, she had no idea what he wanted in a leading lady. While Richard went over his usual morning speech, Christine’s mind drifted on what she was going to do later for practice. Christine was squeezing in as much time as she could to perfecting her vocals. She continued to see her voice coach from college, and she was always practicing whether in person or on Skype with other instructors. Christine was grateful that with all the singing she does that it didn’t bother her neighbors or her mother.

It financially made sense for Christine to live at home with her Mom and the basement had been converted into a musical studio for Christine to rehearse. Everything she needed was in the house and it was a big help too while paying off her student loans. It also helped that she and her mother got along famously. Catherine Daaé had always been her number one cheerleader in everything that Christine was involved in. Even when she decided to make a professional career as a singer, Catherine came prepared with everything Christine would need to do to make it a reality.

It also helped that her mother had been a professional dancer before she decided to become a stay-at-home mom. When Christine was in middle school, Catherine decided to return to the stage. While her mother always maintained a healthy diet and stuck to her exercise regiment, she was a little rusty. Thankfully, Catherine had her connections, and it didn’t take too long for her to make a comeback. However, Christine was sixteen when her mother injured herself by tearing her ACL. She had surgery done immediately and the damage was able to be repaired but even the doctors weren’t completely confident that it couldn’t happen again.

Catherine decided it was a sign for early retirement, but she was not someone to be idle for long. Her mother opened a dance studio and a successful one at that. It was mainly geared towards young girls from the ages of four to eighteen to learn ballet, pointe, tap, jazz, lyrical, and hip hop. On the weekends, she offered ballroom dancing lessons for adults, which was a big hit.

Christine worked part-time at the studio teaching beginner classes during high school and college. She was pretty good, but she was nowhere near as talented as her mother or her sister.

Just the mere thought of her sister brought a pang to her heart. It’s been a couple years since she last saw her, and the last had been her sister’s graduation. Not that Christine could fault her sister for pursuing her career or wanting to stay closer to their father.

Meg was always Daddy’s girl.

Charles Daaé was a choreographer and it had been the classic story of the instructor and the principal dancer falling heels in love. And things had been perfect but eventually the fairy tale developed cracks. The divorce had been amicable for the most part, but it was still a difficult and emotional time. Christine believed her mother’s injury had been in part to being distracted by the divorce, and she did blame her father even though it was an accident. The only blessing was that the alimony did aid in helping her mother open the dance studio.

Christine knew she shouldn’t really be bitter towards her father, but at the time, she had a lot of anger. Part of the reason her parents drifted apart was that Charles wanted to move back to New York City. Catherine wanted to stay in Michigan since the family was here and she didn’t want to uproot her children. As soon as the divorce had been finalized, Charles had moved back to New York City.

Meg wanted to be with him, but Charles insisted she stay with her mother. He still flew out to see his girls for the holidays and birthdays and they would spend a month with him during the summer. He kept a presence in their lives despite the distance. Not that it was easy. Christine loved him despite the pain that their family was torn apart, but she also still resented him for everything happening in the first place. Catherine, on the other hand, harbored no ill will and kept trying to encourage Christine to forgive. But that’s another story.

Meg still wanted to be with him, but she waited until she was able to go to college. She wanted to be a professional dancer and was accepted into Julliard. It was only natural she moved in with Charles for school. While she went to classes, she also was accepted a position at her father’s dance company. It was all good experience and Charles showed no favoritism and Meg worked hard to be where she was now.

Plus, Meg loved the Big Apple. She wasn’t going anywhere except maybe Paris if the opportunity presented itself.

“…Okay, without further ado, let’s welcome our new director and composer extraordinaire: Erik Campbell!” Richard announced, followed by an over enthusiastic applause.

The rest of the company followed suit and Christine craned her head to see him walking towards the stage. Her face went pale when she realized the white object she had seen on the floor when she had run into that guy was, in fact, a mask. And it was now situated on his right side with the light hitting it directly.

He faced the group with a terse nod, his right-hand waving to quiet the welcoming applause. Then it was as if his eyes locked on Christine and there was a brief recognition flickering in them, his lips pressed tightly together.

The only thought running through her mind: _Oh, shit_.

xXx

Time moved agonizing slow. Christine wanted nothing more to apologize for running into him the way she did. Especially when the look on his face was anything but pleasant. It wasn’t the first impression anyone would want to make and with the boss no less.

Despite the scowl on his features that felt intimidating combined with his height at over six feet, he was pretty good-looking. His left side boasted having a high cheekbone, strong jaw, and piercing hazel eyes with jet-black hair styled so nothing was out of place. He was lean, not scrawny, or thin, but his crossed arms did hint at the muscle underneath. Then there was his mask. It was an alabaster white that was shaped to fit his right side perfectly, even matching the height of his cheekbone like it was a second skin. As far as she could tell, the edge of the mask stopped along the jawline and did not go pass his ear or hairline.

She felt herself flush when she caught him looking at her again. If it were possible, she swore his chest tightened as his eyes became another shade darker. Forcing herself to focus on Richard, she did her best to tune out Erik Campbell’s glare.

While Richard spent far more time talking to them, Erik Campbell was direct and right to the point.

He was going to hold auditions for the roles so he can get a feel for the singers’ present. Current positions or seniority was of no consequence to him. Just the voice mattered for what would be ideal for the characters.

He gave no information on what the opera was about or how many roles there will be. Secrecy was obviously important to him. He would go over certain details with the pre-production crew so they could begin their work. As for the rest, they can use the time to decide on what pieces they wish to perform for their auditions and start practicing.

“Auditions will start _promptly_ tomorrow morning at seven,” he said. Christine swore he looked back in her direction, and her face flushed red.

The meeting was concluded and before Erik Campbell could make his exit… he was swamped with the seasoned performers who were protesting the unfairness of these new procedures.

Christine was caught in the middle, but she clearly heard what he told them.

“Everything is my final decision when it comes to _my_ opera. If you do not like it, then the door is right there.”

No one could deny the arrogancy or the ownership that he uttered. Yet, he said no more and dismissed them as he pushed his way out of the auditorium.

Christine saw her chance and began running up the opposite aisle so she could meet him outside. Luckily, Richard was left to handle the company so she could speak to him privately.

He was already striding in the directions of the offices when Christine blurted, “Mr. Campbell!”

He stiffened and turned, and… glared as she stopped in front of him. “So now you’re going to announce yourself before you run me down.”

“N-no! No, I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to—” Christine started to explain but he cut her off.

“Maybe next time you should be more diligent and come to work on time. If that’s too much of a bother, then I’m sure you will be happy elsewhere.”

“I always do come to work on time. Today was a fluke and I really am sorry for running into you. I swear it wasn’t intentional. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“And maybe you thought that would get you in my good graces for a decent part in my opera.”

Christine’s jaw dropped. “What? That is not—I wasn’t even thinking—”

“You weren’t thinking. I would have to agree with that.”

Her fist clenched. “Look, _Mr. Campbell_ , I know I was in the wrong and I was just trying to make it right. That is what a _decent_ person would do. You can take my apology or leave it. But you have no right to be rude or assume what my motives are.”

She turned around to leave, but not without a final parting: “If _I_ did get a role in your opera, it would be based on my merits and not trying to _kiss your ass_.”

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

“I said _that_ to you?” Erik said, astonishment in his tone and expression.

The tiny smile pulled at her lips. “Yeah. You were a jerk. Not that I’m excusing my part, but you were an asshole. And honestly, it was not my shining moment either. I lost my temper and I wanted to put you in your place. You don’t remember that?”

He shook his head. “I cannot imagine saying that to you or abusing you in such a way.”

“Hey, I’m a tough girl. I survived,” she joked.

“How could you even bear to give me another chance?”

“It took some time, but I did manage to knock that arrogance out of you.”

“What happened?”

“It was the round of auditions…”

xXx

_Thirteen Years Ago…_

Christine was taking her place on the stage. She looked across the auditorium and settled her gaze on Erik Campbell. While his white mask was a startling sight that easily stood out, she wasn’t fixated on it. Rather, she zeroed in on his smirk and the quick dismissal he had in his eyes. He was humoring her with this audition since he had no intention of casting her after yesterday.

Well, she didn’t care what he thought. She didn’t care if she got a part or not. All she wanted to do was prove him wrong.

The accompanist started up the beginning bars of the aria she selected. That got his attention at the recognition of the music. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and then she opened them as she began:

“ _Think of…”_

“… _me!_ ”

As the final note soared through the opera house, Christine could not help but grin. She _nailed_ it! Her hands drew to her chest as she bowed. Glancing up, she found her target and was pleased to see he no longer was smirking. Nor was there any dismissal or disregard. He seemed flabbergasted.

Christine made her exit to stage left for the next singer and grabbed her water bottle.

“Wow Christine! That was incredible!”

“Thanks Emily. You did awesome yourself.”

“I’m no prima donna. I much prefer the chorus as you know, but I’m sure Mr. Campbell is probably eating his words by now.”

Christine chuckled. “I bet he is. It felt rather good.”

Emily Shore was the only one who heard what transpired between Christine and the new director. She was the closest thing to a friend that Christine had at the theatre and who kept insisting that Christine’s place was not in the ensemble. She couldn’t believe the nerve the boss had to say to Christine, but the soprano assured her friend that payback was a bitch.

“As it should. I watched him. That man was transfixed. I don’t think he even lifted his pen to take notes on your singing.”

“Perhaps this is going to knock some sense into him. Let’s go and watch the other auditions Em.”

When the auditions concluded, Christine and the others were beginning to leave when she heard her name.

Erik Campbell.

Christine waved goodbye to Emily as her friend gave her a thumb’s up. _This has to be good_ , she thought as she waited for him to approach her. Crossing her arms, Christine arched her brow. “Mr. Campbell.”

“Erik, please, Christine—”

“Miss Daaé,” she corrected. “Can I help you with something Mr. Campbell?”

“Your voice… In all my life I have never heard an instrument as fine as yours. No… Fine is not the word. Perfection. It was sheer perfection. What in the world are you doing singing in the chorus?”

“That is where I have been placed. But thank you for the compliment. If there’s nothing else…”

“No—yes. There is. Let’s get a drink and talk. There is a bar not far from here.”

“No thank you.”

“I can drive if you don’t prefer to walk—what?”

“I said, ‘No thank you.’ Although you really didn’t ask so I’m giving you an answer.”

“No?” he said stupidly, still not sure if he heard her correctly.

“That’s right. Thanks, but no thanks. Have a nice evening.”

“You’re really saying no?” he asked. “You don’t even know what I’m going to talk to you about!”

“If it’s work-related, then you can talk to me right here. Otherwise, I am going to go home and meet up with my best friend.” She wasn’t lying. She had made plans with her bestie and she couldn’t wait to share this story. _Score for me for putting him in his place!_

“Do you even know that this is an opportunity for you?”

“I don’t believe that this opportunity should involve you and I in a social setting. After all, I don’t want there to be a ‘misunderstanding’ that I am somehow going to be in your good graces. This is strictly professional and if you think my voice is well-suited then great. I am looking forward in hearing the casting when you and the others have decided. Good night Mr. Campbell.”

She left him looking after her in disbelief.

xxXXxx

_Present Time_

Christine stopped when she heard the familiar wail coming from upstairs. “I’ll be right back,” she told him as she hurried to the baby before any of the children should wake.

While Christine was gone, Erik took the time to reflect what she had shared. He still found it hard to believe that he had been so disagreeable towards her. Indeed, he had no patience for others and would just as easily dismiss them, but Christine was different. Then again, in his memory he had first heard her sing when he was ensnared by her. Finding her in the chapel and seeing her up close was the first time he realized her loveliness only added to her charms.

This Erik was a fool.

Yet he couldn’t ignore that Christine was hoping that a spark of recognition would occur with her story of their first meeting. Even before she left to attend the baby, there was dismay in her eyes that her husband could not recount those moments in time.

He wanted to give that to her. To let this be nothing but a bitter memory and to return to a blissful love story. However, his mind was a blank to her narrative.

He drowned another glass when Christine returned. This time she had the baby in her arms. The little one was cooing but very much wide awake.

“We should put the liquor away and head back to the room. This stubborn one is going to take a while to get back to sleep.”

Erik put everything away with Christine telling him to put the used glasses in the sink. Once the task was done, they returned to the bedroom. Christine leaned against the pillows and headboard with the child nestled in her arms as Erik took a seat at the foot of the bed.

“Does anything ring a bell?” Christine asked, desperate for familiarity and no longer willing for him to come to that conclusion on his own.

Sighing, Erik shook his head. “Forgive me. This is all new to me. Yet I cannot help but be aghast at my behavior. Or his behavior. How in the world could he make amends with you when…?”

“We started off on the wrong foot?” she finished for him. “Not without effort. You had told me that it was the first time ever that you were turned down. Or that someone was even frank with you. You might have been a private person, but you clearly expected me to follow to a script that you had known all your life. When I refused, you were thrown off your equilibrium.”

He had to chuckle at the statement. “I can see that. Obviously, things changed.”

She nodded. “Obviously,” she repeated with a slight grin as the child blew a spit bubble.

Erik stared, transfixed over the picture the two presented. The Madonna embracing her child and he felt the corner of his mouth twitching in an upward movement. It was clear Christine was born to be a mother and him… Well, fatherhood was not a role he ever anticipated let alone hoped to be one. However, the niggling voice in the back of his mind whispered the doubts that he could never sire something so beautiful, so pure.

“What was that?” Christine asked, her brows creasing as if she misunderstood.

Exhaling, Erik motioned to the little girl who was now trying to make the bubble bigger. “I cannot fathom how she… _they_ are not accursed with my affliction. Forgive me but this only furthered my belief in that this is a dream.”

With precise expertise, Christine had a tissue in hand and was wiping the child’s face when her back stiffened at his words. Then she relaxed as she considered how strange this whole affair has been and if he really believed what he told her earlier… then she could not get upset at his questioning. Not that it still didn’t sting that he thought she had somehow done this by herself without any help from her husband. Any other implication would be too insulting for words.

“Your— _his_ face is not genetically-related. There were complications during the pregnancy. If you don’t mind… that is another story for another day.”

He nodded. “What happened next then? You clearly must have been given the lead.”

“That is correct. Naturally, this stirred the pot quite a bit. But you were firm in your casting decisions. And it all worked out. Eventually my colleagues took notice that I could sing and shouldn’t have been on the sidelines as long as I was. Yet that never mattered. I knew it would take time and I would have my chance. Of course, I only assumed I got the role because you wanted something from me and after I had turned you down…”

xXx

_Thirteen Years Ago…_

Rehearsals were grueling but Christine oddly felt invigorated. Indeed, she was exhausted, and she doubted if she had the energy or strength to perform another _messa di voce_. But if Mr. Campbell demanded it… She would dig deep to prove she can do it.

She found out firsthand how far his eccentricities went. Before rehearsals could even start, everyone in the company had to sign an NDA complete with the acceptable talking points of the opera and Erik Campbell himself. The theatre’s lawyer explained everything in a legal orientation with the man present during the proceedings. This was no laughing matter, and he took it quite seriously, even though Christine believed some of the expectations were a bit too much. This was an opera after all… not national security.

Nevertheless, once all the proper paperwork was filled out, signed, and everyone understood the consequences if any of the terms for the NDA were violated, they were able to get to work.

The first shock had been no one received a full libretto. No one… not even the stage manager, the conductor… _no one_. Mr. Campbell explained they would take it in sections until he is confident and satisfied that it is done by his standards. It was not the usual way of performing, but they had signed the legal documents and so there was not much anyone could do except obey the director’s orders.

From the portions that Christine was given, she could piece together that the opera was a tragedy. Or at least it felt that way based on his previous works. She didn’t know too much about her character’s motivations or who she was as a person. The only thing Christine knew was the name—Primrose—and she would assume there would be a quality of innocence from the name alone. However, Mr. Campbell’s directions were anything but when he described what she should be doing as she entered the scene.

Trust was the only guiding force and so Christine had to trust him as she took the stage and hoped that it was enough in her performance. Of course, she lost count on how many times he had her run through it over and over again. And it wasn’t just Christine… everyone suffered the same grueling repetition until Erik Campbell was satisfied.

At least they were done for the day. Christine was already envisioning a hot bubble bath, some candles, and maybe a glass of wine to unwind when Erik Campbell materialized in front of her.

The gasp parted through her lips before she had a chance to stop it and he smirked, oddly pleased with himself. “Miss Daaé,” he greeted.

“Mr. Campbell,” she acknowledged.

“I have to commend you during rehearsals today. I don’t give compliments out lightly and while there is still more work that needs to be done… You certainly exceeded my expectations over endurance.”

“Do you mean that not every singer you work with is overjoyed at repeatedly doing the same thing?”

His lips curved upward. “You are pretty fearless with that sarcasm of yours.”

“I’m off the clock.”

“So, on the clock you’re going to watch your tongue?” His eyes drifted to her mouth and Christine wondered how the Hell did the conversation quickly became flirtatious when she was positive, she hadn’t meant it at all. She looked around and they were alone, but she knew there would be still some backstage crew nearby. However, she could say that this man was infuriating and not in a good way.

Narrowing her eyes, she took a step back. “Mr. Campbell, I’m first and foremost a professional.”

Bafflement flickered in his eyes and she swore she saw a slight blush from his mask. “Wait… I didn’t mean to imply…”

“Well, you did,” she shot back, then realization filled her eyes. “Did you think that since you gave me the part that I was going to—that we…?” Her hands balled together as he was quickly shaking his head.

“NO! You got the part because of your voice. You’re Primrose. I swear I wasn’t using that as a reason to sleep with you. Damnit. This is not what I intended… I…”

“I’m going to say good-night and forget this even happened,” Christine muttered as she went to walk around him.

“You should stop jumping to conclusions.”

Christine knew she should keep going, but she couldn’t help it. She turned back. “Excuse me?”

“Look, I am sorry I was rude to you about earlier. And I’m sorry if it felt I was trying to make a pass… Okay, I was but I’m not now. I don’t know what it is. But you’re… different.” He ran a hand through his hair and Christine was speechless at what was happening.

_What is happening?_

Did she feel sorry for him? Was she jumping to conclusions?

He sighed and stuck out his hand. “Let’s start over. My name is Erik Campbell and the other man you have met wasn’t me. He was this cynic who thought he had the world figured out and he was wrong. Not everyone has the same motivations or intentions, and he should really get to know the person first even when she was the better person in trying to make things right after what was really an accident and he had to twist it up into something selfish.”

She looked at his hand and then back to his face. He really did appear contrite and perhaps she had been a little harsh too in her assessment of him.

“It’s nice to meet you Erik Campbell. I’m Christine Daaé.” She slipped her hand into his, smiling.

xXx

Since the do-over, things have gotten better between Christine and Erik. At work, they were all business and Christine found herself enjoying the challenge that Erik was giving his performers with his constant push for perfection. He gave notes and was sometimes brutally honest with his feedback, but Christine did not take it personally. Instead, it pushed her to do better.

And she felt herself improving vastly. Even her voice coach had mentioned that she had seen more improvement in the last couple weeks. Christine had to credit Erik for the changes, and she was starting to see that beneath his aloofness and arrogance… there was a good man. She figured there was a story behind him, and she wondered if he had been deeply hurt in the past.

As they rehearsed more with his opera, Christine was starting to see the tragedy become more pronounced. Primrose, while sounding to be innocent, but was not. She wasn’t a femme fatale either, but she was manipulative. She used her wiles and disguised good nature to seduce and attract Pietro, a wealthy stranger who comes to her village, with the hope she could escape the poverty that she is in. Meanwhile, she is also toying with the affections of Thomas, a local villager, who loves her deeply and is willing to help her win Pietro by pretending to be a brute.

In some ways Primrose reminded her of Catherine Earnshaw in _Wuthering Heights_. But Christine had to say that Primrose was worse than the literary character. It was a role that did not come naturally to Christine. She could not _imagine_ being so cold-hearted and cruel with someone’s emotions. Yet, it was a role that really pushed her, and Christine had to admit it was fun to play someone that was not her at all. Although, part of her was hoping there might be some redeeming quality in Primrose near the third act. Despite not having an entire libretto… Erik was kind enough to inform the cast the opera had three acts. 

She had no doubt that _The Delicate Prim_ was going to be received favorably.

When rehearsals were done, Christine would find herself lingering after to speak with Erik. The do-over was a new beginning, and at the start, Erik would make small talk with her before and after rehearsals. Then during a lunch break, he wanted to go over the next scene with her and they also ended up talking about what worked and what didn’t so far in the production, and it led to sharing about their mutual interests in music. It was a tentative friendship and after a few weeks of the polite and civil conversations… Erik had suggested they go out for lunch.

It had been platonic and they each paid for their own meals, but they learned more about the other. She told him about her parents, the divorce, and what inspired her to pursue singing. In turn, he told her he didn’t have an easy childhood, but wasn’t explicit in the details. She sensed that sharing something that was so personal wasn’t easy and so she kept her questions to basic ones. He knew she was being respectful of his privacy and he appreciated there was no pressure to share more until he was ready.

Christine had no idea how complicated his life had been. She supposed there was nothing simple or easy with having to wear a mask, but she sometimes forgot there was one. She was focused on Erik and it wouldn’t be until someone would either stare or make a comment passing them that she would see his jaw set and his body tense that she would be reminded that he wasn’t like most men.

So, when he did share certain facts about his life, she knew it was a sign of how much he trusted her, how much this friendship meant.

Therefore, she didn’t know when or how the friendship had started turning into something _more_.

Perhaps it was the light touches when he corrected her posture on stage or when they were hanging out and his hand would brush against hers or how his hand might rest on the small of her back when he would pull out her chair for her at restaurants. Or how he would look at her while she spoke as if he were taking in every word or how his laughter would light up his eyes making them glow like amber.

She had to remind herself that while they have become friends, he was still her boss and she wasn’t going to jeopardize that over a crush.

But it was becoming harder to ignore that it was not a mere crush when _The Delicate Prim_ premiered. As she knew, the reviews exalted Erik’s genius and she couldn’t help the glowing pride that she was able to help contribute with the critics writing how newcomer Christine Daaé stole the spotlight.

While everyone had many reasons to be happy with the success, Christine’s happiness started to change when she realized that when the run was over… that was it. Erik would leave.

The thought filled her with dread, and she didn’t want him to leave, but she knew he would go to a new city, to a new theatre, and she would stay at the Opera Populaire. He had told her himself back in those early days of rehearsing that he was deciding between San Francisco or Boston as his next choices. It had been a while since he last spoke about his impending travels, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to happen.

The last performance came, and the uneasy trepidation overwhelmed her that she almost felt physically ill. And the fact it was also New Year’s Eve only made what was going to come a bitter taste in her mouth. Yet she gave her all in the end and no one was the wiser. With the curtain falling for the last time, Christine couldn’t help the tears that started to slowly make their way down her face.

There was going to be an after party like the company always does and instead of being excited for it… she felt hollow. She almost wanted to skip it, but she was the leading lady, and it wouldn’t look good if one of the stars didn’t go.

The party was at The Whitney like it always was and she tried to have fun with talking to her friends and the other guests in attendance. It didn’t help that Erik was in close proximity and every so often she was being pushed to stand next to him for pictures or to talk with one of the bigwigs.

It was getting close to midnight when Christine felt her cheeks were becoming too painful from all the smiles she kept forcing herself to give. She wanted the night to be over and when she found Erik standing off to the side… he looked almost as miserable as her.

They really hadn’t a chance to have a private conversation or be alone, but she did manage to catch his eye as she nodded with a tilt of her head to step outside. He moved and they were finally alone on the balcony. There was a chill in the air, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Silence fell over and they couldn’t look the other in the eyes. Christine knew at any time he was going to say it… he was going to tell her that he was leaving, and this is good-bye and…

“I noticed you made some mistakes this evening. You’re a brilliant singer but even a highly-trained ear could tell that you were lacking the passion.”

Not exactly what she thought he would say, but he was right. Tonight, wasn’t her best because her heart wasn’t in it. Not that anyone else but him would be able to tell.

“I know. I guess I was thinking about how this is it. I am going to miss working with you. Believe it or not. I never thought your slave-driving ways would be something not to look forward to.”

He had to chuckle at her comment and even Christine grinned in spite herself.

“I thought the same… miss working with you, I mean,” he said. “I know I am demanding but with the results I get… well, old habits die hard.”

Here it comes. In the background, the counted had started until they got to the New Year.

_Ten…_

Swallowing hard, Christine thought it was time to stop beating around the bush. “So… what did you decide to go next? After staying here in Michigan, I’m sure you’re ready for something else. San Francisco is the opposite and at least you would always know what to expect… weather-wise.”

_…Nine… Eight… Seven…_

He cleared his throat. “Actually, I was becoming fond of Michigan. There are some sunny days and warm weather. And there’s this girl…”

_…Six… Five…_

Her heart skipped. Looking up at him, Christine felt her breath stuck in her throat as Erik tenderly gazed at her. His fingertips ghosted across her cheek as he struggled for his next words.

_Four…_

“Christine…”

She trembled as she waited with anticipation for what’s next.

_Three… Two…_

“I don’t want us to be just friends. I do value your friendship and your insights, and I know being a professional means a lot to you… and I wouldn’t dare compromise that part and—”

_One…_

He stopped talking when her lips pressed hotly against his. In a flash, his hands were cupping her face as he pulled her flush against him; her nails in his hair, holding him tightly as fire ignited in their bellies. Passion gave way to hunger and then the need to breathe had them unwillingly separate as Erik’s cool mask touched her forehead.

“I would like to have that drink now,” Christine told him as Erik blinked slowly before smiling widely.

Happy New Year.

TBC…


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just finished revising this chapter so adding it now. 
> 
> Some domestic time... Thank you in advance to anyone who is reading this story!

**Chapter 6**

_Present Time_

When Christine finished her story, Erik smiled softly at how perfect it had been. There was no deception, no violence, no anger. Just two people who grew to like each other and eventually had their happily ever after.

Christine’s heart began to beat a little faster when she saw his smile and wondered if he was starting to remember their first date fondly. They had gone to the bar and had a couple of drinks but spent most of the evening talking and later walking through Campus Martius before Erik walked her to her car where it ended with another toe-curling, butterflies in stomach kiss. In that moment, he looked like her husband and she reached out, her fingers gently resting over his.

But the moment ended as Erik moved his hand away and gazed at her with insurmountable sadness.

He didn’t remember.

Like a dose of cold water dropped on her, Christine yanked her hand back and returned it with its twin as she cradled the sleeping child against her breast. She looked down at her daughter, doing her best to hold back the tears, as she whispered, “It’s late. I’m going to put her back to bed and we’ll talk more later.”

She was already moving away before Erik could speak, although he felt it was for the best. What else could he say? He sensed her disappointment that her story had not returned _him_. And he wished it had.

Still sitting on the bed, he debated whether he should remain or go downstairs. He didn’t want to upset Christine further knowing the man she was sleeping next to wasn’t the man she loved or married. And it might be for the best if he was sleeping elsewhere until… Well, until everything was righted.

He had a pillow and blanket in hand and was heading towards the door when Christine returned. She looked at what he held and then at him in confusion.

“I thought it would be best if I slept somewhere else.”

“What? Downstairs? Where the kids could see? No. The last thing I want is for them to question that anything _is_ wrong. And they would definitely know something is up if their father is sleeping on the couch.” She motioned for him to put the pillow and blanket back and pulled out the comforter so she could climb underneath.

Erik complied and went over to his side of the bed. Again, he had another internal debate if he should be under the bedclothes or sleep on top when Christine drew enough of the comforter back for him too. He obeyed the silent order as he slid under. Touching the mask, he was about to remove it, but he felt he should say something. Glancing back at Christine, he saw she was already laying with her back to him and she had moved closer to the edge, so they were not touching.

Sighing quietly, he thought it best to not say anything at all. He set the mask on the nightstand and rested his head against the pillow.

Neither of them got that much sleep.

xxXXxx

Morning came far too soon for his liking. Thankfully, he and Christine were not greeted by the children this time. He had to count that as a small blessing.

Christine got out of bed first and he followed suit. He placed the mask on and stood beside the bed, wondering what he should say to her. Somehow something as innocuous as “good morning” or “how did you sleep” didn’t seem appropriate with everything considering. The silence didn’t seem to bother her as she opened their closet and pulled out clothes.

He nervously licked his lips as she turned around and approached the bed, but he couldn’t seem to find his voice. This was not befitting at all for the Opera Ghost. If only the Daroga could see him now!

“Here you go. I thought I would help even though you did dress correctly yesterday.”

Christine had laid down his outfit for him and he did manage to find the words to utter a thank you. She nodded and began to worry her lower lip. “I was also thinking… Call me optimistic or maybe masochistic, but since our first meeting didn’t jog your memories, I thought perhaps a routine would.”

“Routine?” he repeated.

“Yes. Maybe I cannot help you remember but maybe the kids can.”

His visible eye twitched. “The kids?”

“Exactly. You can get them ready for school. Make sure they wash up, brush their teeth, dressed, and that might trigger something.” She seemed so hopeful as if those menial tasks would magically return the lost husband.

However, he could not crush her spirits. He could at least try for her if nothing else. Yet, the thought of being alone with the children filled him with nothing but trepidation. Lotte had already suspected him and if he were to make a mistake… it would undoubtedly confirm her suspicions and then what? Christine was adamant they would not know what happened and he was to say he was trying out an idea for a new opera. Would they buy it?

“You know… they’re just children. Not some evil villainous masterminds.” Christine crossed her arms and arched her brow. “They won’t eat you alive. I promise. Just… be a dad.”

Easier said than done. Then there was the matter of the youngest. He had no experience with handling someone so small. The unmasked fear was still etched on his features when she sighed impatiently. “Okay, I will take care of the baby. You can take care of the older ones.”

Relief returned to his eyes and he readily accepted.

“Fine. But don’t think you’re getting out of diaper duty entirely. That is going to be your other Mt. Everest later today.”

Within minutes, Erik was now standing outside Lotte’s bedroom. Christine told him to start with her first since she would be the easiest to wake. His hand hovered over the doorknob and he saw the slightest tremor and narrowed his eyes. He was the fearsome Phantom of the Opera! He can make ballerinas shriek at the sight of his shadow. He can make grown men weep for mercy. A small child should not be this daunting.

_If I can make an entire opera house follow my orders, then I can certainly prepare three children for school_ , he reasoned.

He twisted the knob and pushed it opened.

xxXXxx

Christine had been right. Waking Lotte up was not an issue. In fact, she was up and moving to grab her clothes to change as soon as Erik gently touched her shoulder. Seeing she was pretty much on her own in that regard, Erik went ahead and moved to the boys’ room.

He had anticipated the same immediate reaction as Lotte, but Gus and Raoul were oblivious to the world. He managed to awaken Gus by the fourth shake and harshly calling his name. The boy did snap open his eyes and murmured a “good morning,” but Erik was already moving towards Raoul’s bed. Gus frowned but didn’t say anything as he grabbed his clothes and dressed.

Erik stood over the other boy. He was sleeping at an odd angle where one leg was sticking out of his blankets and the other was wrapped around them, his head was tilted to the side, and his mouth was wide opened. He wasn’t snoring but he was breathing loudly. And while it was evident, he moved in his sleep, the boy’s hair looked practically perfect unlike Gus’s whose dark hair had stuck up a bit.

He was only a child. Not an adult. Yet, Erik couldn’t help the sneer over how peaceful and little care in the world Raoul appeared.

But he was the boy’s father. Or so Christine insisted. Erik, on the other hand, could not find anything remotely about himself in that child. Perhaps the boy’s presence came about in another circumstance. Maybe… he was adopted. That would make sense.

However, now was not the time to speculate. He had a job to do and he was going to make sure he had all three readied for school.

If only the boy would wake up!

Erik smirked as an idea entered his head. He left the room as Gus finished changing his clothes. He couldn’t understand why his father wouldn’t wake Raoul up the usual way. It wasn’t that difficult to do…

But Gus didn’t have to wonder for long as Erik returned with a couple of cups in his hands. Gus’s eyes widened and before he could make a sound… Erik had dumped the water in them on top of Raoul’s face.

_That_ woke him up as he coughed and sputtered, his body flailing and jerking about from being suddenly wet. Erik had a triumphant look on his face as he gloated. “Good. You’re awake now. Get dressed. You have school.”

Gus exchanged looks with his older brother, then at Lotte who was in the doorway and saw the whole thing. She looked at her twin and gave an imperceptible shake and he had to agree. Something was not right here.

Like most twins, Lotte and Gus were no exception to the secret language known only to them. Theirs was mostly unspoken with subtle looks and gestures that only they were aware of what they meant. It worked well in their favor during family game night much to Raoul’s chagrin and often why they were not allowed to be on the same team together to avoid the temptation of cheating. But this was not a game and it was imperative they knew for sure.

Lotte motioned for Gus to come and she shifted her gaze to the bathroom. He grinned.

Erik had not noticed the silent message shared as he accompanied them to the bathroom, leaving Raoul to change out of his wet pajamas. He stood in the doorway as the twins stood in front of the Jack and Jill sinks. A minute passed and neither of them moved a muscle.

“Is something wrong?” Erik asked.

Lotte stared at him and crossed her arms. “We can’t brush our teeth until you get it ready for us.”

“That’s right,” Gus chirped.

Erik was a little floored. They seemed to be self-sufficient children in the short time he had known them. He could not understand why this is one task they could not do on their own. Yet, they were waiting expectedly for him and so Erik knew he had little choice. Of course, if this was the time for memories to start kicking in… it should be now. Not even his earlier intuition was making an appearance to aid him.

So much for Christine’s theory.

He stood between them now and reached for the tube of toothpaste in the center. He picked up the toothbrush that he had to guess was Lotte’s based on the purple color. Squeezing the minty-flavored across the brush-head so it was fully covered, he then passed it over to her.

Lotte pinched her lips together and shook her head. “Very funny _Daddy_. But you know whose brush that is!”

Even Gus was chuckling.

Okay, he made a mistake. Looking at the other brushes, he felt a headache already starting to set in. The other two brushes were teal and lime green. _Why did Christine and Campbell have too many kids?_

Not sure what to do with the purple brush already ready to go with the toothpaste, Erik sat it down on the counter and went for the lime green.

“Wait _Daddy_. We have to wash our faces before we brush our teeth.”

“That’s right. How could we forget that?” Lotte said. “Can you get us our soap?”

There was no soap out at present so it must have been in the medicine cabinet above the sinks. Erik reached for the door on his left and heard a cough coming from one of the twins. Realizing he was making another faux pas, he switched to the right door and to his horror… there were 3 different bars of soap concealed in their own container and the containers were also purple, teal, and lime green.

Perspiration was gathering at his temples and he felt his hand getting clammy at now having to decipher which color goes with which child.

Purple was not Lotte’s. So, would a little girl like the teal? Then would Gus like the purple or lime green?

Raoul had now joined them, and he was looking confused at his siblings and at Erik. Then Erik could hear the baby’s door open and knew Christine was done getting the infant ready. He grabbed all three soap containers as Christine passed the open door. She took a quick glimpse and part of her wanted to watch if her husband’s memory returned, but she had to get breakfast ready. She had to have faith that the children could bring the miracle if she were unable to.

With Christine gone, Erik was left with the three children. Without looking at which one, he handed a soap to each of them.

Raoul looked down at the purple one. “Um, Dad? This isn’t mine.”

“And neither are these,” Gus said, pointing to his and his sister’s.

Lotte looked at Gus and it was time.

The bathroom door was closed shut and the twins stood in front of it, blocking it as Erik could not believe he had managed to screw this up. Raoul just looked at them, not sure what was happening.

“Who are you?” Lotte demanded, her eyes darkening into a violet color.

“Where’s _our_ Daddy?” Gus followed suit, his hazel eyes becoming defiant as he looked up at the imposter.

Raoul choked. “What are you guys talking about? He’s right there.”

“That’s not him,” Lotte continued. “I _knew_ you weren’t right. Mommy said you were working too hard and was being forgetful. That’s not true, _is it_?”

The accusation was weighing heavily in the air and Erik knew he had to turn this around. And fast.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. But your mother told you the truth. This is part of an idea I have for an opera. A man who forgets his life and his children and I wanted to see how it might play out…”

The twins were not convinced, judging from the identical glares and their arms over their chests. He didn’t even want to turn around to see Raoul’s expression. Exhaling loudly, Erik knew the farce had to come to an end. Clearly, he couldn’t outsmart _these_ children.

“Very well. I am not your father. I don’t know how I came to be here or why or how long, and I don’t know your color preferences or what else needs to be done so all three of you are ready for the day.”

Silence.

“…You’re _joking_ right? This can’t be…” Raoul swallowed hard and Erik finally turned to see the twelve-year-old becoming paler. “That’s _impossible_!”

“You heard him Raoul,” Lotte retorted. “He admits it!”

“But… there is no way that this isn’t Dad—unless…” Raoul gasped. “Was he abducted by aliens? Did they make a double like in _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_? Is he being mind-controlled?!”

“For the love of… NO!” Erik exclaimed. “I am not whatever you said. That’s the most preposterous thing I have ever heard!”

“At least there’s some logic behind it,” Lotte snapped, coming to her older brother’s defense. “I could believe that.”

“Besides, that’s probably what the aliens will want us to believe if you say you’re not a fake,” Gus added.

Erik’s hand began to rub his forehead as he said through clenched teeth: “ _I am NOT an alien!_ ”

“Which is exactly what a real alien would say,” Lotte said, smirking.

He had to keep his temper in check. As infuriating and ludicrous these three were behaving… it would not bode well if the Opera Ghost released his fury. Christine would not be pleased, and he could not disappoint her again. However, he had to once more question the possibility of these three being his spawn.

Breathing through his teeth, Erik a little more calmly but strained, tried again with more sincerity in his tone. “I can assure you that I am not an alien. I look like your father, yes, and in truth, we have similar physical characteristics, and we have an affinity for music, but that is all.”

“Does Mommy know?” Lotte pressed, her voice still possessing some defiance, but it was beginning to soften.

Erik nodded. “She is aware. She is not… _happy_ but she believed that being with you would have him returned.”

At a loss for words, the twins looked at each other and lowered their defensive stances. None of this felt real or logical, but neither of them had a solution. Gus, a little shyly now, lifted his eyes to Erik.

“Who _are_ you?”

“My name is Erik. I live in Paris at the opera house where it is 1881.”

“Oh. That’s… a long time ago, then,” Gus said, scratching his head as Lotte stepped forward, her scrutinizing gaze never leaving Erik’s.

“Do you have a family like ours?” she asked. “Are you someone else’s Daddy?”

It was an innocent question, but Erik could see the conflicting emotions on her little face. In that moment he realized how important _this_ Erik was to the girl. He had suspected that there was a special bond, and it was probably that reason she was able to see through him right away. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt an odd sense to protect her, to assuage whatever turmoil that was whirling in those brilliant eyes of hers. It would be so easy to lie… to tell her there was a family waiting for him. That he had a daughter like her and then he could _be_ that parental figure. Because that’s what she wanted to know… if he could be the father to her, even if he wasn’t her actual father.

The lie was ready on his tongue. He knelt so he was at eye level with her and opened his mouth…

“I do not. I am no one’s… Daddy.”

He supposed he should have felt some remorse for speaking the truth. The crestfallen expression said it all, but he knew the pain of a falsehood would lead to more anguish. He couldn’t do that again. Not anymore. _If only my Christine could see her Angel now_ , he thought wryly. Honesty was a foreign feeling to him, yet his spirit felt somehow uplifted. True… the children may resent him for now, but at least he was not lying to them.

Lotte brushed the back of her fingers against her eyes, wiping away a tear. Then determination seized her as she gripped his shoulders, looking deeply at him.

“I will show you how. We all will. Right Gus, Raoul?”

Gus, who also was teary-eyed, blinked away his sadness and vigorously nodded. “You can count on me.”

Lotte glanced behind Erik to her older brother. He had been oddly silent after his earlier accusation of aliens and abductions. He still didn’t look entirely convinced and he continued to stare at Erik as if he were a stranger wearing his father’s face. A myriad of emotions ran through him as if Raoul couldn’t decide if he wanted to cry, scream, or shout. His fists clenched at his side, his body trembling.

“Raoul?” Lotte repeated. “You will help us?”

His body woke from his stupor, jolting, as his blue eyes glared at Erik. “You say you’re not him, but you are.” Without another word, he stormed passed them and slammed the door behind.

“Don’t worry. Raoul and Daddy often disagree but he’ll come around,” Lotte said, trying to assure Erik.

“Yeah. He needs to get used to the idea. We all do,” Gus added.

He knew he had been hard on the boy, yet he couldn’t help himself. Every time he looked at Raoul or heard his name… His mind kept flashing back to the Vicomte and what _he_ took from Erik. But looking at the twins and he was forced to remember that _this_ Raoul was a child. He was ignorant of Erik’s history and has no understanding of the hatred between the two men. There was no rival for Christine’s affections, except of that between a mother and son.

The jealousy that flared was only a flicker in his heart, and Erik could not find the energy or will to keep it burning. However, he could not extinguish the feeling either. The Vicomte would always be lingering in the darkness of his mind. Yet he would do his utmost to ensure that his animosity towards the Vicomte does not leak into the present with the boy.

“Should I go after him?” Erik found himself asking.

The twins’ shook their heads. “When Raoul’s upset, he needs to be alone.”

“Now,” Lotte continued. “Let us show you the basic things for getting ready.”

xxXXxx

He had to give credit where credit is due. The twins knew how to get ready themselves. His task would have been to monitor and keep track of time, but they were testing him.

Crafty and clever they were… especially Lotte.

Well, Erik considered himself educated in the morning rituals now. Lotte used the purple soap container and teal toothbrush; Gus had the teal soap container and lime green toothbrush. That left Raoul with the purple toothbrush and lime green soap container.

“They’re the colors of the Joker,” Lotte explained. “He’s his favorite villain.”

“Ah.” Then suddenly an image of a clown in a purple suit with bright green hair appeared. “I see,” he repeated, but this time with a clearer understanding. “And your color preferences?”

“I like purple and teal,” Lotte said.

“I like mine too,” Gus echoed.

Once their faces were washed and teeth brushed, they were ready for breakfast from the identical grumbles of their stomachs. Erik followed them out and casted another glance at the boys’ bedroom where the door was closed but the light was showing underneath.

He felt a slight pressure in his hand as he looked down at Gus. “I’ll let him know he can get ready. You may want to give him some more space.”

Erik nodded and continued his way down the steps with Lotte. At the bottom he paused and looked back up to see Raoul emerging from the room to head to the bathroom. Gus gave Erik a thumb’s up and grinned and came padding down the stairs to join his sister.

Erik continued to follow them as they entered the kitchen where Christine had the baby in her highchair and breakfast was laid out on the table. This time she made scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast.

“It took you guys a while. I thought I would have to send in a rescue team!” she joked as she bent down to give the twins a good morning kiss. As the twins took their respective seats, Christine frowned at the obvious missing child and she mouthed to Erik, “What happened?”

Before he could reply, Raoul brushed past him and sat down at the table. He didn’t glance in Erik’s direction or greeted his mother. He just dove right in and began eating his food.

Something wasn’t right and Christine wanted to say something, but they had agreed for the kids’ sakes they wouldn’t know the truth.

“Um, did your father tell you about his new idea for an opera? I guess he took the method approach a little far, huh?” Christine said, laughing more for their benefit. She wagged her finger at Erik as he also sat down.

“It’s okay Mommy. We know he’s not Daddy,” Lotte replied matter-of-factly. “We’re going to help him though.”

Stunned, Christine looked at Erik.

He shrugged. “They figured it out. Even tested me, which I failed horribly.”

The twins chuckled. Raoul didn’t speak. He glowered at his eggs.

“Oh. And… you guys are… all right?” Christine asked tentatively.

“We’re fine. Surprised but it’s expected all things considering,” Lotte said.

“Exactly. But it’s like a puzzle. We just need to find the right pieces to fit for Daddy to return,” Gus stated.

“Unless we need to make a portal. Although, I don’t think that might be possible. You didn’t come through a portal, did you?” Lotte asked Erik.

“No. I don’t believe so…”

She bobbed her head. “Okay so that rules out that theory.”

“Oh, oh! I wonder if it’s like that one episode from _Murdoch_!” Gus exclaimed excitedly. “You know the one with the lady who thinks she killed her fiancé and the one guy who said he did it to protect her after she had protected him in another life! Maybe Daddy had a past life and—”

The shaking dishes following the heavy thump on the table had Gus stopping midway. Everyone looked over at the person who slammed his fist. Raoul’s shoulders rose up and down in deep agitated breaths.

“Raoul—” Christine started but she was interrupted as Raoul finally lifted his face so he could look at Erik directly.

“This is not like _Murdoch_ Gus. It’s nothing like that. He’s faking this. He is only messing with us because he’s a jerk.”

“Raoul!” Christine gasped. “That’s enough! Look, I know how bad this looks. I do. But believe it or not, Erik is telling the truth. I don’t know why or how this happened, but it did. The last thing _any_ of us are going to do is freak out or say something regrettable. Is that understood?”

The comment was directed to everyone at the table minus the baby who was watching the scene unfold. Then becoming bored suddenly, she went back to banging her tiny fist on the highchair tray.

That helped to ease the tension in the room a little bit.

Sighing, Christine laced her fingers together. “All right. Now, we’re going to have to take extra care to help Erik out. No one can know about this. Not your friends, your teachers, or even Grandma. We will do everything like it’s normal until his memory returns. Everyone is going to have to be patient and understanding.”

The question—unspoken—hung in the air as Lotte and Gus nodded dutifully. Christine looked across to Raoul as he reluctantly also nodded.

“Good. Eat up and then it’s time for school.”

Breakfast was finished in silence. The only sounds were the baby’s babbling interjections who was the only one nonplussed over the situation. Like yesterday, the kids took care of their dishes in the sink and dishwasher, grabbed their respective lunch bags, and went to the front door to put on their winter coats.

Christine did her dish, Erik’s, and the baby’s bowl while Lotte helped Erik bundled the baby up. Gus grabbed the diaper bag and pointed out to Erik what she needed when she was going to Grandma’s.

Raoul stood by the door in sullen silence, refusing to acknowledge Erik or his siblings’ helping him.

With Christine out of earshot, Gus whispered to Erik: “You should talk to him now before we get into the car. Apologize about the water.”

Erik’s visible brow cocked. The boy was irate over _that_?! It was only water. No harm in that. Yet, knowing the wisdom in the smaller boy’s words and the desire in keeping the peace for Christine, Erik approached Raoul.

“I want to apologize about earlier. Waking you up, I mean,” Erik explained. “Perhaps that was not the most fitting of actions. But I will endeavor not to wake you again with cold water.”

“Whatever,” the boy grumbled.

Erik should have let it go. But he couldn’t… not with the boy’s attitude. “I wouldn’t have resorted to that if you had simply awakened like you were supposed to. A little water is not going to hurt you.”

“Why do you care? You’re not even my Dad apparently. But I guess that’s not shocking either.”

The biting comment rooted Erik to the floor as suspicions about the boy’s paternity reared once again. He took a good hard look at the blonde hair sticking from under the winter hat and the piercing blue eyes along with the sneer etched over his perfectly formed features.

“So, it seems,” Erik murmured.

TBC…


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the next chapter! Thank you everyone for reading!

**Chapter 7**

The children were safely delivered at school. Now, they had one more stop to Grandma’s for the baby before going to work. 

Christine had for a moment—a very, _brief_ moment—to bring up about canceling rehearsals. But considering how the other day had gone… no one was none the wiser that Erik Campbell wasn’t Erik Campbell.

She worried her lower lip as she gripped the steering wheel. Well, if anyone _does_ say something, then she can think of an excuse. Most people were intimidated by her husband and anything unusual was brushed off as an eccentricity. Indeed, since their marriage, Erik had eased up on his notorious eccentric habits. The NDAs, for example, were a thing of the past. But he still liked not releasing the whole libretto at once and she had to admit… the tactic worked well. She and Erik were the only ones to know how _Don Juan Triumphant_ was going to play out, and she glanced over at the man in question and wondered if he knew or remembered too.

She asked once the kids were dropped off at school.

“It is strange that even in this reality my opera is present,” Erik remarked. “From what I can tell, the two are similar; however, my opera is unfinished.”

“That’s interesting,” she commented. And it was. “So, my Erik finished _Don Juan_ and yours is a work in progress. That might be a problem.”

“You’re rehearsing Act I. I _do_ have that done and most of Act II is also finished. I do not have an ending yet.”

“We will have a while before we get to that part,” Christine said. _And that might give us enough time for things to go back to normal_. “Okay, but we should get you caught up to speed on who works for you. We are lucky no one noticed a change yesterday, but let’s not push our luck.”

She had a point, and he conceded. “Very well.”

This took up the rest of the journey to her mother’s house to drop off the baby and to the opera house. He was tempted to ask Christine more about her and her life in this world. He was curious to know what became of her father and whether if he was alive or not. He knew how precious and special Gustave Daaé had been to his Christine. It was her grief and love for her father that led her to Erik.

And that would explain Gus’s namesake.

But now was not the time. He needed to concentrate and know who his employees were if he wanted to maintain the façade. Thankfully, his intuition was beginning to return, and he could recall some details as minor as they were. If only it had worked this morning with the children! Then again, it was probably the Fates having a cosmic joke out of the Opera Ghost trying to act like a father. He hoped if that was the case then they had their fill of his obvious ineptitude.

Christine first went over the administrative side of things—the people who would be approaching him over the exact details and checking on the progress of rehearsals, etc.

He recognized the name Richard Firmin, but as Christine explained, not the Firmin he was familiar with. As the general manager, he would, of course, be wearing different hats for administrative, marketing, production, and financial purposes. She described him as being somewhat “uppity” but quite good in what he does so everything goes smoothly. He would be coming to Erik for approval on _everything_ to make sure everything is in line with Erik’s vision and to make him happy.

“He still has stars in his eyes when it comes to you,” she said. “Even though you made this your private residence and tenure, Richard still frets that you might be seduced away. Don’t mind it too much. I know my Erik usually tunes him out if he goes on a rant.”

Tuning out would require a lot of patience, and Erik was not looking forward to it. Although, note to self: do _not_ lose your infamous temper.

The producers Edward Acker and Gene Andre would be easy to please. They rarely show up during rehearsals and prefer the grandiose and attention when the production is ready.

“And they get to see their names in print. They are mainly silent investors; however, Susan Baker has been involved in the opera house for several decades. She trusts your decisions, but she will put her two-sense in, and she will attend rehearsals. She wasn’t there yesterday because she had a doctor’s appointment. I do know she is due to have knee surgery, and the appointment was preliminary before they scheduled it. I doubt Susan would be around much during her recovery, but she will be there until then.”

Erik was another producer besides composer and director. Ultimately, he would have the last word on decisions, but with Susan’s experience and knowledge, Christine said he would defer to her on occasion. He wasn’t sure he would like that, but she assured him that he and Susan were alike in matters of art and music. Perhaps it would not be as bad to have another opinion who appreciates his music.

They had three interns this season—all college students from Wayne State University. There was Nadia, the redhead he recalled, and the other two were Geoff and Willow. They were learning the ins and outs of the opera house and would be involved with behind the scenes and act as stand-ins if necessary, for lighting or other purposes. Nadia was more interested in the administrative side of things, and she would be assisting Erik with those tasks. Geoff and Willow will help with backstage and on-stage tasks.

“All three interns are hard-workers, and they are going to do their utmost to impress you. So be nice. But also, be fair and firm. What I am going to share with you about Geoff and Willow is going to be delicate, and I’m assuming from your position in the 19th century, I should address this. Geoff is gay and Willow is black. Are you harboring any prejudices I should be aware of?”

He did not. He had seen his fair share of secret dalliances of same sex couples and he could not care less about the issue of race if the individual were up to his standards in doing their jobs well. That pleased Christine immensely as she continued with the rest of the crew.

Next was the magicians behind the scenes. Her words, not his. She rattled off their names and a quick description:

Robert Sherman- set designer; forty-five, married with two kids in high school (wife’s name is Blair, Michael and Beth are the kids), and has been at the Opera Populaire for fifteen years.

Garfield Langley- lighting designer; curly blonde-haired with green highlights, twenty-seven. He looks younger than his age, but he knows his lighting effects and, in Christine’s opinion, one of the best LDs. He has been with them for three years.

Raven Carson- hair, wig, and costume designer; lavender color in an asymmetrical hairstyle, thirty, and dating Garfield for over a year. She has worked there for five years.

Alan Gross- sound designer; fifty-two, loves Elvis, wife is Gloria, has three adult children (Kimberly, Janet, and Justin), four grandchildren (Dayna, Justine, Aubrey, and Avery), and has been at the opera house for over twenty years.

William Butler- music director/conductor; fifty-five, wife is Serena, has one son (Andy) in college at Central State University, and has conducted for over thirty years with ten being at the opera house. He had previously worked for the Fisher Theatre and left when the Opera Populaire offered a better contract.

Victor Kaminski- stage manager; forty-eight, wife is Sarah, and has twin boys (Adam and Tony). He has been with the opera house for eight years and previously worked on Broadway shows in New York City. When the offer to come back home (Detroit native) was made, Victor jumped at the chance. Erik Campbell had personally made the request.

The stagehands consisted of varying experiences from a year to twenty: James, Joey, Dick, Chris, Seth, Melissa, Donna, Pete, Mike, and Laurie.

The choreographer was Antionette Gary, which Erik started at the name. “Giry?”

“No, Gary,” Christine corrected. “Why?”

“I knew an Antionette Giry from my time,” he said. “She is most respected, revered, and does not suffer a fool under her watch.”

Christine laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like Toni here. She has high demands and expectations, but she is truly the best. In fact, she followed my husband from New York to here. He told me that he has never worked with a better choreographer and considers her a second mother.” Her laughter subsided a bit. “She is a hawk and knows my husband very well. So, you need to do your best not to arouse her suspicions.”

Erik knew how to handle Madame Giry and he believed he could handle this Gary the same way. The more he thought about it… he did remember the woman from yesterday during the rehearsal, but he did not make the connection then. Whereas Madame Giry was impeccably dressed in her black dresses and her dark hair braided on top and her ever present cane in her hand, this Antionette had noticeably short silver-hair, lean but not overly skinny, and wore leggings and tank top layered under a shirt that rested on her shoulders. She did not carry a cane but rather a whistle around her neck to count the beats and call out when someone missed their cues. She only blew it once or twice the other day, but it certainly was an effective technique for the dancers. And she had a nickname that people called her by, which was another reason he had not made the connection.

He smirked to himself on whether he should refer Madame Giry as “Toni.” She probably would whack him over the head with the cane.

By this point, Christine was pulling into the driveway of her mother’s house and undid her seat buckle. “I’ll be back in two minutes to drop off the baby.”

“Can I come in as well?”

She froze and slowly turned her head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea considering…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes began to sparkle. “Stranger things can happen. Perhaps a mother-in-law could spark some memories.”

Not what he had in mind, but he was curious to meet her mother.

“All right. Let me give you some quick info: you always call my mother by her name—Catherine. Never Mom. Right now, you and she are not exactly on the best terms.”

“You said that before. What happened?”

She sighed. “This is the Reader’s Digest version. You two did get along pretty well, but things were going south when it concerned Raoul. As soon as he started showing interest with sports and less about music… Well, honestly, you’re not the most attentive. Mom said some things… as did you and it was silently agreed that you and she shouldn’t be around until you could speak civilly to each other. Of course, if she comes to the house to see the kids, then you do speak to each other; although, it’s more forced for the kids’ benefit. At least you can put aside your differences for them when they’re present.”

Erik nodded in understanding and had to wonder if there was more than what Christine was letting on. While he could understand his disinterest angered Christine, why would her mother be as angry?

“Really this bickering is ridiculous between you two. She means well and I do think you could do better when it comes to Raoul’s interests. However, you and Mom need to resolve your issues. I’m not suggesting you do that since you’re… well, just be nice.”

“I promise.” Perhaps he could do his counterpart a favor and make amends. While Christine said he did not have to, he thought his presence could be put to good use.

He decided to carry the baby while Christine had the diaper bag and her other supplies. He closely followed Christine behind as she unlocked the front door and let themselves inside.

“Mom! We’re here!” she called.

He could hear some movement coming from the other room as an older woman emerged. Immediately, he could see the resemblance with Christine. She had the same dark curls as his Angel except there were strands of gray interlaced. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun and she had the same startling blue eyes and delicate chin and mouth with a few wrinkles around her eyes. She also possessed Christine’s petite figure with only the markings of age present. It was evident she had been a dancer in her younger days and she still carried that dancer’s air in her movements. He did notice she was favoring her right side when she stood and surmised, she must have had a serious injury at some point. That was always a risk with dancers, and he had seen his fair share of injuries with the Corps de Ballet over the years.

Catherine had been smiling when she saw her daughter, but as soon as she saw Erik, those blue eyes darkened as she narrowed her gaze at him. “This is a _surprise_ ,” she said with sarcasm. “Erik.”

“Catherine,” he returned, though kept his tone neutral. Christine had said to be nice and he would endeavor to do so. Yet he could not help but be impressed with Catherine’s formidable stance regardless of her injury. He could see that Christine’s fiery spirit was inherited by her and he wondered if the Christine in his time had a mother like her. All he knew was that she had been taken from Christine at a young age. She barely remembered her or knew her. At first, Erik believed it had been a blessing with only recollections of his own mother as a reference point.

Thankfully, the baby started cooing and was extending her arms to her grandmother. It was the break in tension that they needed as Catherine’s severe stare melted away into tenderness as she reached for her granddaughter. She rubbed noses with the child, babbling unintelligibly. Then she removed the coat and winter garments from her, all the while balancing the child on her good hip. It spoke years of experience as she set the heavy clothes on the bench near the front entrance.

“I’ll just set this in the kitchen,” Christine said, lifting the diaper bag from her shoulders. She sent a silent look to Erik as a reminder to “be nice” while she dropped the bag off.

Now it was just Erik and the mother-in-law.

He could do this.

“Catherine, I know we had our disagreements, but I think it’s time we put our differences aside. For everyone’s sake.”

Catherine had stopped playing with the baby and gave him a pointed look. “There is nothing I need to put aside. That’s on you.”

She wasn’t going to make this easy. Erik took a deep breath. He was going to have to once more swallow his pride and say those words that were foreign to him.

“I’m sorry Catherine. I know I need to do better with Raoul. I’m going to. I promise.”

“That’s a start. But it’s more than just Raoul.”

He blinked. “It is?”

Before Catherine could say anything else, Christine returned and was relieved that her mother and Erik had not killed each other. That was progress.

“Thanks Mom. We’ll see you after rehearsals.”

“All right. Me and this cutie are going to have a great time together.”

Christine smiled and gave the child a kiss on the forehead. “Bye Mom. Love you.”

Erik awkwardly said his good-byes and walked out the door with Christine.

“Did you make amends?” she asked.

“I think so. But she still seems upset. I don’t know what else went on between her and _him_.”

“At least you tried. That counts for something.”

They were back in the vehicle and getting ready to head to the opera house. Christine resumed her task, and this time, it was about the performers.

The other day Erik only referred to the cast by their character names, and while Christine said that was how her Erik usually operated, she insisted he should know their actual names as well.

There was Robert Pierson as Aminta’s father Don Lorenzo, Tony Goodsill as Passarino (Don Juan’s servant), Cara Giudicelli was clearly Lucia (not that Erik needed a reminder but humored Christine anyways), Ben Wilson was Don Afonso (Aminta’s suitor), Daniel Evans as the peasant Flavio, and Kory Gray was Zerlina (Flavio’s fiancée).

There was another dozen or so in the chorus, but the only principal performer not mentioned was the one playing Don Juan. The actor from yesterday whom Erik thought was the understudy, was in fact, _not_ the understudy. Instead, the actual understudy was Blaine Moore. He had yesterday off, and Erik found his jaw clenching at the mere idea of someone taking time off when rehearsals were underway.

Christine had said it was a family emergency, but Erik scoffed. “What’s more important than the music?”

“Seriously? Believe it or not, there comes to a certain point where music does not take precedence.”

She was referring to her family and Erik sighed and muttered begrudgingly that she was right.

“Who is actually playing Don Juan?” he asked as they parked.

At this, Christine chuckled. “Would you believe I don’t know?”

His look was almost comical. “He never _told_ you?”

“Nope,” she answered, popping the ‘p’. “He insisted it was a secret and would not share any details. I tried. Repeatedly. Not even my feminine wiles could tease it out of him and there were times where I thought he was going to crack.” Her voice took on a wistful, dreamy tone as a devilish grin played over her lips in remembrance on what those wiles were. She glanced over at him, realizing what she implied, and blushed. “All he said was I would find out on the first performance like everyone else. This is the first time he has kept his lead out of the picture. So, I’m guessing it’s someone big.”

He made a sound in agreement while trying not to think how Christine might have wheedled information out of him. He couldn’t help but feel jealous over Campbell and how he could have the willpower to refuse Christine.

“All right. Ready to do this?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Yes.”

xxXXxx

It should have been alarming over at how easy it was to impersonate—well, one could argue himself—in front of all these performers and workers. Yesterday could have been a fluke, but today proved his abilities at deception and manipulation were still highly effective. Christine, of course, was helpful in carrying this out and she hardly strayed from his side lest he should need to be rescued or deflect if something was out of character for her husband.

Part of him felt like a child having his parent hovering around him, but on the other hand, he was grateful that Christine was there to have his back if he should slip up. There was one moment when Toni came over to him as they watched the ballet performance in scene 4 of Act I that was celebrating the engagement between Zerlina and Flavio. Erik couldn’t decide if he liked this timeframe’s modern dancing. Grant it, Toni maintained the elegance of ballet, but she also incorporated something else into the steps. The dancers’ arms and hands flailed about fluidly as they picked up speed and energy within their movements. He had made an offhand comment about the over-the-top pantomiming when Toni raised her silver brow.

“That is what makes it liquid. You specifically requested I added it in to add a little flavor to the party.”

“Liquid? What kind of dancing—”

“Matches so perfectly in this scene,” Christine jumped in, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. “Right, Erik?”

Catching her eye, Erik nodded along. “Right. Matches perfectly. I’m glad I made the suggestion.”

Toni gave him another look, before shrugging, and then blowing her whistle sharply as one dancer lost the beat. “C’mon Georgie! Chaînés! First, fifth! First, fifth!”

While Toni moved towards the stage to correct Georgie, Christine poked him in the arm. “You need to be careful with the dances. You and Toni had spoken in great lengths the vision for opera. If you start questioning it, then that’s going to raise her suspicions.”

“Liquid?” Erik repeated to her quietly. “What kind of dance is that?”

“Hip hop and it’s popular.”

“It’s strange. And not natural.”

Christine fought back a grin. “That’s what makes it dancing. The human body is quite capable of doing strange things.”

He couldn’t argue with her on that. At least Christine did save him from making a mistake. She also, _thankfully_ , kept the interns busy so they did not have to disturb him. He can appreciate ambitions, but their hovering and overzealous need to please him was giving him a headache. It was either that or stammering fear if they thought he would be displeased with something. Why this other Erik felt so inclined to bring in these youths he had no idea.

But now he had to be even more careful since it was Christine’s turn to take the stage for the end of Act I. Don Juan’s attempts at seducing Zerlina becomes foiled when he sees Aminta again as she dances in merriment. This would lead into the first duet between the characters and Erik was desperate to hear Christine sing once more.

Until he saw Don Juan take the stage. Something with a B… Blaine, Christine had said. The understudy.

Why in the world Campbell casted him in the role, even though it was rehearsals, was beyond him. The man exuded arrogance as he swaggered across the stage. It was a word that literally entered his mind as his jaw clenched. He also took extreme pride in his physical appearance from the perfectly spiked dark hair to his attire consisting of a short-sleeved black shirt that was tight across his chest. He did earn a few looks from some of chorus—both male and female—but his focus was on Christine, _his_ Christine.

Not that she paid much attention to him. She was standing at her first mark, her eyes closed as she took a couple deep breaths, before opening them to reveal a look of innocence and joy.

_Aminta_.

She was truly breathtaking that Erik almost forgot his cue as director.

“Mr. Campbell?” asked the conductor… William that was it. “Shall I start?”

“Y-yes,” he replied as the first strings began to play.

Erik watched in utter amazement as Christine—no Aminta—sung about the happy occasion and if love would be in her grasp. Her voice was so pure… so angelic that she floated on the stage. Meanwhile, Don Juan and Passarino lurked in the background, taken in by the beauty of the innocent girl, and the libertine takes a hold of Passarino’s cloak to disguise himself. It was a move that surprised the loyal servant and he helplessly watched as his master began to approach Aminta.

It was a dance of missed opportunities as Aminta darted from side to side, unaware of the man who was trying to get close to her. Until he began to sing of love at first sight and how he had not believed it until that moment.

The understudy was quite good. A little _too_ good and Erik supposed he could understand why his counterpart made that decision. _However, not good enough to be the official lead,_ he mused. He scrutinized every second as the understudy attempted to cajole a kiss from Aminta, but the maiden was too modest, too bashful to kiss a stranger. Around and around, they went in this teasing manner until Aminta relents.

Aminta closes her eyes and leans up to await the kiss… and a distraction from one of the party goers is supposed to end the moment.

At least that was how it was scripted.

Instead, Blaine swooped in and kissed Christine on the mouth, catching her off-guard as her eyes flew open in shock.

It lasted only a second as she reacted, pushing him away as she berated, “What the Hell Blaine? You’re not supposed to go all the way!”

“It was an accident. I misjudged the distance Christine. Really, I’m sorry,” Blaine said sheepishly, but there was a little twinkle in his eye that indicated he wasn’t sorry. Christine sighed. Blaine was a bit of a hotshot and he was a talented singer, but he was an idiot if he thought the improvisation was going to win him points for the leading role. She was going to let it go and ask for another try when Erik was suddenly standing between her and Blaine.

Erik had seen red when the understudy kissed her. He couldn’t recall moving but he was there on the stage and the _boy_ had the audacity to shrink back as a guttural growl erupted from his throat.

“That was not part of the scene!”

“It was an accident! Right, Christine?” Blaine looked over Erik’s shoulder to the soprano.

“That was intentional! You do _not_ change the script!”

“Erik, it’s all right. It won’t happen again, isn’t that right Blaine?” Christine directed this at the young man who was vigorously nodding his head.

“Good. I want to run through it again but this time with the right blocking,” Christine said gently, her hand resting on Erik’s arm as she captured his blazing eyes.

Seeing her and feeling her warm touch was enough to extinguish the inferno raging in his blood and the need to lash out at the boy for being so thoughtless. He felt himself assenting, coming to realize how silent the theatre had been from the outburst. Erik stalked off the stage, noting that everyone nearby was giving him space as he took his spot to watch the performance.

Erik waved to William to start up again. The second time was perfection. Not a mistake was made, and Blaine was mindful of his actions and there wasn’t another “accidental” kiss.

A break was called soon after and Erik longed to retreat to his office to escape the stares and no doubt whisperings of the cast and crew. He wondered if he had broken character and began to mentally curse his jealousy. Any other time he would not have reacted had a kiss was needed. He wouldn’t have liked it, but he understood the necessity within a performance. That had been unprofessional, and his thoughts turned murderous if this Blaine thought he could romance Christine on the stage in front of her husband.

_No… not husband. She’s not_ ** _your_** _wife_. _She’s Erik Campbell’s wife. You’re the usurper who doesn’t deserve any of this_.

It wasn’t until he was standing in the office that Erik finally felt he could breathe. He had a moment before the door quietly opened and shut carefully.

“Erik?”

Christine.

He turned around. “I apologize for losing my temper. I didn’t think. I can tell everyone I had a lapse in judgment or a moment of insanity or…”

“You don’t have to apologize. Blaine was out of line and he knew it. I think he wanted to impress you, but he broke the cardinal sin in a Campbell production… you don’t improvise.” Her lips curved in a grin. “Actually, you responded how my Erik would have responded. Except you didn’t swear which is for the best.”

“I… did?”

“I thought… Well, it felt like you were him. Did you remember anything?”

“No.” He hated seeing the hope fall away from her expression so he quickly added, “Could you tell me more about us?”

She smiled brightly as she took a seat by his desk and motioned for him to sit as well.

“As you can expect that drink did lead to a date. And another date…”

TBC…


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so glad a lot of you are really enjoying the direction of this story! I just love making Erik uncomfortable in this modern setting and being a dad is going to have a lot of complications. If you are craving some more E/C moments, then you are going to love this chapter. * wink, wink *

**Chapter 8**

_Twelve Years Ago…_

Panting breathlessly, Christine lifted her heavily lidded eyes to the man who was determined on driving her insane with pleasure. A thrill went up her spine as he pinned her to the bed, his chest moving rapidly, matching her breathless pants, his eyes glowing with desire and lust.

Well… in all fairness… he started it and she had to get a little fun in.

He was trying to regain control of himself as she purred in delight that she drove him to the brink. But she wasn’t ready to slow down.

Teasingly, her pink tongue swept across her lips… the same tongue that had been tantalizingly him just seconds ago.

Erik’s eyes nearly crossed, and he couldn’t hold back. With a roar, he let his inhibitions and passions go.

xXx

It had been the dress’s fault. That’s where it _really_ started.

Of course, Christine didn’t make it easier on how delectable she looked with how the midnight blue fabric clung in all the right places and her legs… Erik never figured himself for a leg man but the little slit on the side teased a little skin and her heels had these straps that curled around her ankles, making her appear taller than her normal petite stature.

He knew he had to pick his jaw up from the floor when he opened the door to reveal this _vixen_ , but he continued to stare as he forgot the English language. To add more to his utter embarrassment, he made these strangling sounds when he did remember he had to vocalize to make words.

Christine giggled. Then she had to do a turn, which his eyes immediately zeroed on her shapely behind. By the time she completed her turn and had successfully rendered her boyfriend speechless, she flippantly remarked, “We better get to the restaurant. Don’t want to be late for our reservations.”

That snapped him to attention. In his mind, he thought about throwing the reservations out and dragging her to the closest piece of furniture to have his way with her. The bedroom was too far away. The wall was right there. And the couch was behind him.

But this was only their third date and he didn’t want to ruin things by rushing the intimacy. Christine was different compared to the other women he had dated. She was special, an Angel, his Muse. And if he really had to be honest with himself… he knew he was falling in love.

All the more reason not to rush.

Swallowing a large gulp of air, Erik forcefully put down the burning desire by mentally reciting Chopin’s “Chopsticks” before he felt the low throbbing ebb away. Grinning widely, he offered Christine his arm as they headed out for dinner.

Meanwhile, Christine had mixed feelings about the dress. It had been an impulsive purchase she made a couple years ago and never could think of a reason to wear it. Her mother was the one who found it in the back of her closet and insisted Christine wear it tonight.

“This brings out the color of your eyes. And you will know if your young man really likes you,” Catherine teased as Christine’s face turned a bright red.

“Mom!” she gasped.

“What?” Catherine asked innocently. “I’m thinking about your future. I want grandbabies.”

“Yeah… that’s _too_ soon to be thinking about that,” Christine said, rubbing her forehead. “You haven’t met him yet.” Then she remembered her mother did on opening night. “I mean… officially as my boyfriend.”

“And whose fault is that?” Catherine retorted. “Erik is a nice man. A little eccentric but in our line of work… who isn’t? Besides, I have never seen you this happier since Colin.”

Christine groaned. Colin had been her high school boyfriend, her first serious relationship, and her first time. But like most teenage romances, the love fizzled out as quickly as it burned. There were no hard feelings, but relationships did get put on the back burner. Her focus was on school and her career that she had only been on a handful of dates the past four years. Nothing serious. Just a dinner here and there. Even her best friend had told her she needed to go on more than one date.

So far Erik had been the only person to break her cycle since Colin. And unlike her past dates, Erik was different. She really felt like she could be herself around him and she didn’t want to divulge this to her mother just yet… but Christine could imagine a future with him.

Not now. But down the road… anything could happen.

“If I do bring Erik around, you better promise not to bring up grandbabies. I don’t want you to scare him off,” Christine told her mother.

“Take my fun away,” Catherine grumbled but in a kidding tone. “You will wear it then?”

Christine thought for a second. “I will. But if it backfires, it’s your fault.”

Catherine chuckled. “I will happily apologize if that happens.”

Then when Christine stood in front of Erik at his apartment, in the dress, she had to begrudgingly admit her mother had been right. However, she didn’t give Catherine another thought when Erik was staring at her with hunger in his eyes, those piercing hazel orbs reaching out and touching her with that searing gaze. Her stomach instantly coiled as heat blared through her that her legs almost gave out. If there was any doubt in her mind about Erik’s feelings for her… those were thrown out the window. And a newfound feeling emerged: a delicious _feminine_ confidence that wanted to tease.

The turn was purposely done, and she couldn’t help the little thrill in her veins when Erik made these gasping sounds like he was trying to articulate but was horribly failing. This type of flirtation was new for her and Christine couldn’t believe how bold she felt or how she really wanted to kiss the daylights out of him or better yet… have him take her. The couch wasn’t far away, but she had this image of Erik hiking up her dress and her back pressed hotly into the wall. It made her flush and all tingly thinking about it, and she wondered if it would be too soon or if he would get the wrong idea.

“We better get to the restaurant. Don’t want to be late for our reservations.” It impressed her that she could speak so calmly with an airy tease while on the inside she was a cloying mess of heat and need.

_Easy girl_ , she told herself. _Down tiger_.

That helped a little. Although, she would be lying if she weren’t just a twinge disappointed that Erik hadn’t just grabbed her passionately and said to hell with the reservations.

_The night is still young_ , she reminded herself as she smiled and accepted his arm as they walked out together.

xXx

Erik believed there was a higher power out there that was set on punishing him. Perhaps in a past life he had done something wrong, but this was pure torture.

At first, he managed to cool his ardor and they arrived at the restaurant on time for their table. The waiter came and took their drink orders (a very nice bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon) and an appetizer of a stuffed and grilled calamari with a roasted yellow bell pepper sauce.

Conversation flowed easily between them as they spoke about work and Erik’s next production. He wanted to do something classical and it had been a long time since _Il Muto_ was performed. Christine heard of the Italian opera but never had the honor of seeing it. It was a comedy of affairs and she loved the idea.

“We will perform it as intended. It’s too magnificent to modernize it. It’s modern in its own sense,” he explained.

“I think it’s brilliant. And it will certainly draw in new audiences too.”

“That’s the hope.”

Their wine and appetizer arrived not long after. The waiter took their main entrée orders and was gone once more for the two to enjoy the beginning portion of the meal. Then Erik found himself in the most glorious and tortuous circle of Hell.

Christine bit into her stuffed calamari, inadvertently moaning in delight.

Erik’s spine stiffened, his fingers nearly dropping his fork, as all his blood rushed south. He was grateful the lights in the restaurant were low to shield the pinkish hue on his visible cheek for he could not believe how quickly his body responded. He wasn’t some pubescent boy anymore, and yet, Christine was reverting him back to that awkward stage when the slightest provocation was a turn on.

It didn’t help that she took another bite, releasing another moan, her eyes closed as she savored the taste.

His other hand gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white, but he managed to put his bite of calamari in his mouth. It was delicious but he barely could enjoy it as he practically swallowed it whole.

Christine looked at him in concern as he suddenly coughed, hitting his chest, as he sheepishly grinned and murmured, “Wrong pipe.”

He grabbed his glass of wine and took a long draught, which helped the calamari continue its journey to his stomach. Although now Erik wondered if he would be able to survive dinner without spontaneous combusting. The second bite he was able to chew it properly without incident and that was because Christine sipped her wine. But it didn’t take long for his mind to take a wicked turn as he watched her throat muscles move as she drank.

God, he was worse than a teenager. What the Hell was wrong with him? He was acting like he never had dinner with a gorgeous woman before. But this wasn’t any gorgeous woman… This _was_ Christine and she was unlike most women in his acquaintance. He had to refocus on something else and tried to resume their conversation from earlier. It worked as they ate and talked, and he was able to get some semblance of control back. He was also thankful he had chosen his flesh-tone cloth mask for the evening for it helped to keep him cool without revealing his inner turmoil. It also enabled him to eat without the porcelain getting in the way.

He had noticed that Christine didn’t seem bothered with his mask. Even when they were having lunch as friends, she hardly commented on it or barrage him with questions as others were wont to do. There was a spark of curiosity in her eyes (who wouldn’t have it), but she left the topic untouched. She accepted it as part of him and no doubt was waiting for him to speak about it. However, he thought she would mention it when they started dating, but not a peep. It was pretty early in the transition and she was probably continuing her patient waiting for him to make that decision.

The bottom line: she respected this personal matter, something of which was new and fresh for him. No one has ever done that for him. It was another reason why he didn’t want to hurry things between them. It was obvious Christine was good for him, and he couldn’t mess it up. She was the genuine article and not like the fakes who would throw themselves at him for his money and celebrity status. Indeed, Erik could let down his guard and be himself without approach.

Even revealing a dark secret of his.

“No! You—really? Wow. I never would have gotten that impression.”

Erik nodded gravely. “It is true. Mind you, I don’t often reveal this to my dates, especially on the third one. But I believe I can trust you with it.”

“I’m flattered and honored. I assure you… your secret is safe with me,” Christine said seriously before she exposed herself with a snort. “I never would have pegged you for a Trekkie.”

“Hey!” he scoffed. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“Sorry,” she guffawed, covering her lips. “I just had this picture of you dramatically yelling ‘ _Khaaaan!_ ’ Oh! Can you do the live long and prosper gesture?”

“Well, you would too in Kirk’s position and—wait a minute.” He narrowed his eyes towards her. “Are you mocking me or…?”

Christine raised her left hand in the Vulcan salute, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “One question: Kirk, Picard, or Janeway?”

Erik threw his head back and laughed. “You _are_ a Trekkie!”

“Guilty as charged. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Fine. Kirk. He has good instincts and can get himself out of any sticky situation.”

“Ahh. Picard. Has the best memes and it’s Sir Patrick Stewart.”

“Now I know you’re pulling my leg.”

Christine continued laughing. “I would agree with Kirk. He’s the first and set the bar for a Starfleet captain. But if it’s between William Shatner or Chris Pine’s Kirks… I would have to say Chris Pine. I’m a sucker for baby blues.”

“Ouch. I’ll have you know that my eyes are closer to Shatner’s.”

“Yeah, such a pity I am not attracted to you.” Her mirthful tone said otherwise, and Erik found himself really enjoying this playful banter. “Does that mean I can throw in references at work? Dammit Erik, I’m a singer not an electrician.”

He wagged his finger. “Nu-huh. This is a secret and you promised under pain of death you wouldn’t share.”

She pouted. “Not even a simple ‘Beam me up’?” But when she said it, she put on a seductive spin as she lowered her register.

Erik’s mouth became dry as other parts of him wanted to certainly beam her to places unseen. Before he could embarrass himself, their meals arrived, and he was given a reprieve. Erik ordered a filet mignon with a rich balsamic glaze served with haricot verts and roasted red-skinned potatoes while Christine got the pan seared lamb lollipops with rosemary, garlic, and Dijon with asparagus and creamy polenta.

Their wine glasses were refilled as they ate their dinners in moderate silence with an occasional remark about the food or a short anecdote about their lives. When the waiter came around about dessert, Erik looked to Christine and she shook her head.

“I don’t think I could take another bite. Everything was so delicious.”

Once the bill was paid, Erik drove Christine back to his apartment. Typically, Christine and he would exchange another kiss before she would go to her car and go home. Yet, Erik didn’t want them to part just now. Even Christine was showing some reluctance in leaving his car and so Erik asked if she wanted to come up for a nightcap.

“Or I can play for you,” he said, recalling on their last date he had played the piano for her while they waited before leaving for their movie. She had sat on his couch with a dreamy expression as the music swept over her. They almost missed the film as a result because they were caught up in the music and lost track of time.

Her lips bloomed brightly. She really liked how he played last time. This man’s talents knew no bounds as far as she was concerned. It was like having her own private Erik Campbell concert and she couldn’t pass it up.

Once they were inside the apartment, Christine took off her heels as her feet were getting a little sore. She went over to the couch and tucked in her legs with her elbow resting on the arm as Erik positioned himself at the instrument. The piano was angled so she could watch his fingers dance across the keys, and it wasn’t long for her to be drawn into his world of Beethoven’s sonatas. Effortlessly, he flowed from one to another, a steady build up until he changed to something new. It was a melody that Christine was unfamiliar with and when Erik started to sing… she realized this was his own composition.

_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation._

_Darkness wakes and stirs imagination…_

His voice! She had no idea he could sing, which she shouldn’t be surprised, but it was one of the most beautiful voices she ever heard. It was a rich, velvety baritone that reminded her of melting chocolate on a hot summer day. Instantaneously, her eyes slipped closed as his timbre brushed over her, sending tiny pulsating quivers of desire through her. Each pitch was a caress to her soul, resonating loudly that his song was meant for _her_.

She felt herself standing and walking over to him… the moth forever drawn to the flame. She hovered behind him, then gently, she placed her hands on his shoulders. He jumped at the sudden contact but didn’t skip a beat as he continued. Very gingerly, Christine began to run her fingertips down his arm, her chest pressing against his back, her chin resting on his left shoulder. He was warm to the touch and she wanted _more_.

It started with the barest whisper of lips against his ear. Then slowly, the soft petals glided along his neck, the kisses light and hot from her breath. How he managed not to lose himself in the sensations took Herculean effort as he held out the final note. She brought her right hand from his arm around to his jaw, turning his head so she could reach her objective.

He required no coaxing as he met her inviting kiss. The contact was electrifying as their mouths clung to the other, pulling and retreating in a lover’s dance. Neither knew who moved first but Erik was on his feet, his arms sliding around her waist, pulling her upwards as the kiss deepened.

Breathing soon became a necessity as they pulled apart, taking long, deep breaths.

“Wow,” Christine murmured.

“Hmm,” he hummed in agreement. “I take it you liked the song?” he added cheekily.

“Not at all,” she deadpanned. “You’re a terrible singer.”

“Minx,” he growled as she laughed. “I should punish you for that.”

He hadn’t meant for it to come out as suggestive as it did, but her breath hitched, and her eyes darkened to a deep cobalt blue. He imagined he must have looked the same to her, and his brain caught up with the knowledge that his hands was on her. The material of her dress was silky, and it did cling in all the right spots… as well as reveal one dirty little secret.

His eyes widened as he choked at what was missing this _entire_ time. Yeah, he was certain he had died, and this was his eternal punishment.

In all fairness, Christine hadn’t expected or counted on them getting this intimate. The way the dress was designed she didn’t want any lines showing so she didn’t think twice about disregarding her underwear. Now, she waited in anticipation on what Erik was going to do next with that little discovery.

To both their astonishments, Erik pulled away and sat back down on the piano bench. His visible side wincing from tearing away from Christine as his hands fisted over his thighs. He fought to regain his breathing while Christine continued to stand, confused, and bewildered. 

Thinking she somehow wildly misinterpreted the signs, Christine’s face turned red as she slowly backed away. “I’m sorry Erik. I-I thought… I’ll go home and—” What? Forget that this happened? God, she felt like an idiot. “Sorry.”

But his hand seized her wrist, holding her in place, before she could move any further. Christine looked down, frowning.

“Don’t go,” he told her. “Not your fault. I just… God, you have no idea how badly I want you. But I don’t want you to have any regrets. I can’t mess this up.”

At least it wasn’t a total rejection, but if he wanted her… what was the hold up? “Erik, we’re adults. If I was going to have any regrets, then I wouldn’t be here right now.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “That’s not what I meant.”

The elephant in the room. Understanding dawned on her face as her eyes flickered over to his mask. “Erik…”

“I know you haven’t mentioned it. You have _no_ idea how refreshing it is to be with someone and not have the mask enter a conversation. But if we decide to take the next step… I want you to know what you’re getting into. I will understand if you want to wait a little longer. You mean too much to me and I know this might be too soon, but damnit Christine, I am falling for you.”

His confession startled her as she gasped. “Oh, Erik.” He made perfect sense and if logic and rationality were going to prevail, she would take that offering and save it for later. But she couldn’t find it within herself to go that route. “I am too. I know how crazy it sounds, but it feels so right to be here with you. It’s up to you if you want to tell me. I am not going anywhere.”

Translation: I have no intention to leave us.

Erik released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as Christine’s words sank in. Without another word, she sat on the couch’s armrest and interlaced her fingers in her lap as she patiently waited for him to make the next move. He could scarcely believe—no—dare to _hope_ that this was possible. But as much as he wanted to believe (and he knew _she_ believed what she said), experience played out differently. The only difference is that he was _choosing_ to do this while the past involved accidents or curiosity ripping the choice from him. And it would also involve his lawyers ensuring that news of his face wouldn’t be leaked out as well as a price from his banking account.

Yet, Christine was not like that. _She wouldn’t_. This was more than putting his heart on his sleeve. He was putting _himself_ on display.

His hand was trembling as he carefully removed the cloth mask. As much as he wanted to close his eyes, to block out her reaction, Erik found the strength to look at Christine dead on and let the cards fall as they should.

Indeed, she was stunned to see what was beneath. But the shock was brief as she took him all in. It was a birth defect unlike any other where his right side was practically skeletal-like with the barest hint of skin covering his face, making it transparent in contrast. He was missing an eyebrow and eyelashes around his right eye, which made it more pronounced, and part of his nose looked like it had been missing, but since been reconstructed to make it appear whole. There was also scarring just above his upper lip and at the corner of his lower lip that implied there had been surgery done there as well.

“Does it hurt?” she heard herself asking softly.

“Not really,” he answered. “It just looks like it would.” Her expression didn’t betray her thoughts and Erik desperately wanted to know what was in her head. Was she disgusted? Did she feel sick that all this time they were kissing that she was kissing him with this face? So far, she hadn’t run to the bathroom to vomit so that had to count for something.

Then the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “You know if you put on a striped suit and had a coin to flip, we could go as a couple of villains from Batman for Halloween.”

His jaw dropped. Wonders will never cease the way with her surprising him. “Who would you be?”

“Catwoman, of course.”

He blinked and then began laughing. “This has to be the first time _ever_ that I was compared to Two-Face.”

“Really? I thought it would be kind of obvious. Or would you prefer Jekyll and Hyde? That is more of a classic than Two-Face.”

“You’re incredible,” he told her earnestly when he finally stopped laughing. “This doesn’t bother you?”

She smirked. “Not in the slightest. Besides, your face isn’t what makes you Erik Campbell. That’s in here.” Christine had moved back to where she was in front of him, her finger pressing to where his heart was. “That’s what is important to me.”

To prove it, Christine pressed her lips to his once more. That was all it took for their earlier passions to ignite once more.

At least they made it to the bedroom.

xXx

After that night, they couldn’t get enough of the other. Christine was loathed to leave the following morning, but she had to return home to get ready for work and she was certain Catherine would be worried. When she checked her text messages, Mom’s intuition proved right as she texted Christine “I told you so.” She had to roll her eyes and shake her head, but she kept it to herself when Erik woke.

He tried enticing her to stay longer. “I’m sure your boss won’t mind,” he teased, nibbling the flesh where her shoulder and neck met. “If he has a problem, then I will set him straight.”

Christine partly moaned, partly giggled. “I want to see that play out.”

“It’s very simple.” He continued to press kisses as his hands came around to cup her breasts. “She is the prima donna. And if you want a happy diva, then her boyfriend has to make sure that all her needs are being met.”

Christine snorted but she could feel her willpower slowly slipping away as he teased and stroked. “As long as the boss agrees that this soprano has a lot of needs and she will be collecting it when she sees fit.”

“I’ll make sure it is fit into the schedule.”

Suffice to say, they were both late getting into work. Luckily, no one had the audacity to say anything to Erik about it. If they tried, one single pointed look was all it took to send them scurrying away. As it was no secret that he and Christine were dating, no one else dared to say a word to the singer about it.

But Christine decided they were going to have cool it off while they were working. She didn’t want to abuse her position as the leading soprano. In fact, she had insisted with Erik that she should earn her roles based on her merit and not because they were together. As far as Erik was concerned, no one else could surpass Christine’s talent, but she was adamant, and he could not refuse her.

Their professionalism did not change. Erik would critique the way he saw fit and Christine continued to excel. It didn’t take long for the rest of the cast and crew to realize that there was no special treatment. Christine worked hard to get where she was and if they did have a date the night before an early rehearsal… then she would end it early so they would not be late. Erik had whined about it, but he understood Christine’s reasoning, and he begrudgingly admitted she had a point.

However, it didn’t mean that work was completely off limits.

It was during a trying rehearsal for _Il Muto_ that Erik was losing his patience. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong. First, some of the set pieces were not done yet and there was a delay in getting the costumes. One of the lights blew due to a short fuse and so they had half of the lights working. On top of that, people were missing their marks and the dancing was a mess.

Toni, God bless her, was on their case about the mistakes. But the irritation was rubbing off on Erik.

It wasn’t until the scene where Serafimo is disguised as the Countess’ maid that Erik finally lost it. Christine’s friend Emily was in the silent role and her nerves were getting the best of her as she continued to make minor mistakes. After overstepping her cue for what felt like the umpteenth time, Erik halted the rehearsal.

“This is atrocious! I thought you were all consummated singers and dancers here and know how to keep up with the beats. And why the Hell is that light now blinking?!”

No one dared to speak up. “You know what… everyone: 10-minute break. You all better be back on the dot with better performances.”

Erik turned on his heel and began to head to his office. He needed to get away from his staff to decompress. Dropping into his chair, Erik covered his face as he continued to mutter curses under his breath. He almost didn’t hear the office door open and shut. Or hear the blinds being closed.

It wasn’t until he was hit in the head with something that he looked up. It took him a couple seconds to register that A. Christine was in the room with him and B. the something she had flung at him was a pair of panties.

Lowering her eyelids, she coquettishly leaned against the door. “Would this be a bad time to mention that I had those in my pocket during the entire rehearsal?”

When the ten-minute break was over, Erik’s mood changed significantly. Rehearsal had ended on a positive note and he didn’t care he left a sizable hickey much to Christine’s chagrin.

xXx

_Four Weeks Later…_

Groggily, Christine stared at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t know what got to her but the past week she had been feeling more exhausted than usual. And this morning her breasts felt pretty tender to the touch when she took a shower.

Dismissing it as stress, Christine began to unwrap her towel so she could get dressed when a sudden wave of nausea hit her.

Her eyes snapped to her reflection as she mumbled, “Oh no…”

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A side note… I know that the Chris Pine Star Trek movie came out technically after the year of when Erik and Christine had their date, but I wrote the dialogue first and didn’t have the heart to remove it. So, let’s pretend the movie came out before it actually did. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so glad everyone loved that last chapter! I really enjoyed writing about this modern couple getting together and what that relationship looks like. But before we return to that… must return to the plot first. *winks* Don’t forget to hit that little review button to leave a comment! Or kudos it!

**Chapter 9**

_Present Time_

“Look at the time. We should be heading back,” Christine told Erik as he shook his head from his reverie. It felt that the more he heard Christine’s story about she and her Erik, he could almost see it playing out in his mind. But the feeling was fleeting, and he was left with nothing but cruel memories of handsome Vicomtes and summertime promises.

“Before we do… did I—I mean—did _he_ really show you his face?”

Christine nodded. “He was born with it. He told me that it looked a lot worse when he was a child but tried to correct it with plastic surgery. He has a nose now and his lips had been really bloated so they reduced the size so he could have somewhat normal lips. But due to the sensitivity of his cheek and around his eye… doctors didn’t want to try anything else in fear they could cause more harm than good. Erik was resigned to it but after he and I were dating… it didn’t matter anymore. He has come a long way by not wearing his mask as often. He will out in public and here in the theatre, but he told me that I was able to help him find the sense of humor in it.”

“What do you mean?”

“We didn’t our first year together, but we eventually dressed up as Two-Face and Catwoman for Halloween. Then another year we were a zombie couple. He was so lucky not to use that much make-up.”

“I see.” He wanted to be happy for them, for _him_ to find such acceptance and love. Instead, he had terror, tears, and screams.

Christine tilted her head as she looked at his downcast expression. “She really did a number on you, huh? The me from your memories?”

“It’s something you don’t really forget.”

“I supposed not.” She bit her lower lip thoughtfully. “I know you already told me but tell me again exactly what happened. Let’s see if maybe it might be displaced or something.”

He gave a sardonic scoff. “There was no other perspective.”

“Humor me,” she said while giving him a pointed look.

“What about rehearsals?” he rejoined. “I’m sure the Don Juan imposter is eager to dive back into the role.”

He was right. They should return to the stage. “Very well. Raincheck for now.”

It didn’t take long for his mindset to return to the music. They ran through scenes four and five for Act I and was pleased that Blaine was on his best behavior. Then when Cara took the stage for Lucia’s lament, an icy chill ran through him. He had almost forgotten about his interaction with her, which was easily done with Christine at his side for most of the morning. But now there she was… center stage and Erik had to watch the performance.

None of this seemed right. Everything Christine had told him seemed to tell the story of a couple happily in love. Indeed, their initial meeting was not love at first sight, but they became friends. Then friends to lovers. She had accepted his face. There were no rejections. Campbell had won in every sense of the word. So why would he throw it away? Or even risk it?

As far as he could tell, Cara had not been hired yet when Erik and Christine met. So at least she wasn’t a former fling. Or was she?

That wouldn’t be impossible. Campbell had traveled quite a bit before he settled in this city and got married. Cara could have performed in another production of his before she wound up at the Opera Populaire. Maybe she tried rekindling whatever romance they once shared? Or maybe he did?

The thought did leave a sour taste in his mouth. No… It must have been her. She had been pretty forward in his office.

God, he wanted to ask Christine about how Cara was hired but knew that would be a bad idea. If there was some sordid affair going on, would he ruin Christine’s marriage by telling her his suspicions? What if there wasn’t a modicum of truth to it? What if there was? Could he really destroy her and her family?

He knew Christine wanted her husband back. The children wanted their father. Could he really be that heartless, that cruel to take it away? In another life, he was a monster. He didn’t think twice about manipulating an innocent with songs as an Angel. He even snatched away the illusion to reveal he was a man with desires and dreams. But now he hesitated since being in this life.

Truth was important. But was the truth the right path in this situation?

Or… could this be an opportunity for atonement?

Erik glanced from Cara to Christine and back. The explanation for coming here was still a mystery, but what if there was an ulterior purpose after all? Was he sent here to make things right before something terrible happens?

Erik had committed many sins in his lifetime. Blood was on his hands. Perhaps a sinner like him could be saved. Perhaps salvation wasn’t impossible.

One thing for sure, Erik knew he would have to learn more to see if his suspicions had any credence. And if Campbell had been unfaithful, then maybe Erik could be the one to put the pieces back together.

Four o’clock rolled around and rehearsals were over for the day. Erik and Christine had gone back to his office to collect their things.

As soon as they stepped out and Erik locked the door, Christine’s cell phone began ringing. She glanced at the screen for the incoming ringer and her eyes widened. “I need to get this before we leave,” she told him. “Hello? Yes, this is Mrs. Campbell.”

She had moved away from him to continue her conversation. Erik stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do than wait for her. Christine’s back was to him, but he did catch Cara walking past her. The two women exchanged a brief wave before Christine’s attention was back to the call.

As much as he wanted to uncover the situation with Cara, Erik wanted to do this on his terms and when he was prepared with a plan of attack. Also, he didn’t want to do this when Christine was within earshot and risk arousing her suspicions of a possible infidelity.

He figured he could get by with a curt nod of a farewell. Very platonic, very unassuming.

Cara was now approaching him, and he was ready to follow through with his gesture when she had to stop in front of him. She darted a quick look in Christine’s direction to make sure she was still distracted before she gave him a salacious grin.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask this yesterday, but how is your head? You had hit it awfully hard. Not that I could blame you. It was terribly _intense_ ,” Cara purred. “I hope we can finish that ‘conversation’ soon.”

Before Erik could formulate a reply, Cara gave him a lingering wink before sauntering off. Well, if _that_ didn’t confirm what he had feared… But she had mentioned about finishing it. Whatever “it” was, they were interrupted when Campbell had injured his head.

Wait…

Could that be the connection?

Erik ran his hand through his hair, and he let out a soft gasp when he felt a bump near the center of his head. It was a tiny knot, and he felt no pain when his fingers grazed it. It was too much of a coincidence that the same night this Erik hurt himself was the same night he wanted to escape his pain. Could that be what happened to allow this switch? Did that mean that Christine’s husband was living _his_ life in Paris?

“That was the school,” Christine told him as she returned, sadness in her eyes. “Raoul didn’t make the team and he didn’t take it well… Is something wrong?”

“Huh? No. I’m fine.” He removed his hand from his head. “I don’t understand why the school will inform us about the boy not being accepted. Most children are not chosen for a lot of things.”

Impatience washed over her. “Okay, first, ‘the boy’ has a name. Raoul. And he’s our son. As far as I’m concerned, you’re here and that makes you a father,” she told him before he could object. “Getting on the team meant a lot to him. He has been practicing so much for this opportunity. Secondly, the school called because he apparently punched the wall and he hurt himself. Luckily, he didn’t break any bones.”

Erik wisely decided not to say anything else as Christine made a beeline to the car. As she drove to the school, he could tell her thoughts were on the boy. He longed to tell her that Raoul was too sensitive, and she shouldn’t coddle him. Life was full of disappointments and it was a hard lesson that Erik learned well as a child. In fact, he was much younger than Raoul when he learned to fend for himself. Somehow, he doubted Christine would be in the mood to hear that, and he didn’t want to get into an argument with her.

He sighed.

Big mistake.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“What?”

She mimicked his sigh. “Look, I really don’t understand this issue you have with Raoul. Actually, I would say the _both_ of you. You and my Erik. But especially you since you hardly know him. He is a twelve-year-old boy. I hardly doubt you have a grievance with him, and if you do, then you should grow up. Be the adult.”

He bristled at the statement. “I _know_ he is a boy. His age has nothing to do with it.”

“Then what is it? Why are you so determined to be an asshole when it comes to him?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Christine growled. “Try me.”

“Because God has a morbid sense of humor when it comes at my expense,” Erik said.

“What does that even mean?” She gave him a look.

“Why Raoul? Out of all the names you could name a child… why that one?”

She slammed on the brakes. “Are you _seriously_ telling me your issue has to do with his name?”

“When you say it like that it sounds ludicrous.”

“Damn straight it is. It’s a name. And a special one at that. If you have had your memories, you would know that.”

“Well, I don’t,” he retorted. “So, forgive me if I don’t see what is so special about it.”

A car-horn blared behind them. Christine saw the green light and muttered something unintelligible, but Erik could surmise she was cursing him. She continued driving and when she spoke, her voice was softer now.

“That name means a lot to this family. Even if my Erik doesn’t see eye-to-eye with Raoul… he knows how important it is to us.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Please be nice when we get him. Set aside your ego and whatever personal issues you have. He is a child and deserves that respect. Got it?”

He knew an underlying threat when he heard one, and this Christine certainly had the claws to back it up. It was both titillating and frightening since she was speaking as a mother bear protecting its cub. And it was different since Erik wasn’t the one to have the last word or have his will obeyed.

“I got it,” he capitulated.

That pleased her. The rest of the ride to the school was quiet. When she parked the car, she handed him her cell phone.

“I have it all set to go. You just have to press the green button to call my mother. Let her know that Raoul didn’t make the team and to tell the twins, so they don’t bring it up. Can you do that for me when I go inside to get Raoul?”

Calling _her_ mother?!

Christine rolled her eyes. “It’s a phone call Erik. She’s not going to bite your head off. She won’t do that if it’s about the kids. It would help me if you can do this. Please.”

While he wasn’t keen about speaking with Catherine so soon, he couldn’t deny Christine either.

“Thank you,” she breathed. The car was left running to keep the heat going as she exited the vehicle and walked inside the school building.

Looking down at the small object in his hand, Erik knew he better get it over with.

xxXXxx

Christine was gone for ten minutes. His phone conversation with Catherine was only a minute. She assured him she would tell the twins, but Erik didn’t know the details on what went wrong so the call didn’t last long. Then he was left to his thoughts, which the solitude (normally welcomed) only prolonged the tedium until Christine returned. He saw her emerge with Raoul next to her and he was cradling his right arm. Erik could tell his hand had been wrapped in a bandage.

The driver side door opened, and Raoul climbed inside, closing it firmly next to him. Christine resumed her spot at the driver’s seat. She half-turned to Erik and he handed her back her cell phone.

“It’s done,” he whispered, and she gratefully smiled back at him.

“Thank you,” she mouthed. Christine started the engine and backed out of the spot so they could head to her mother’s house to pick up the rest of the brood.

From his peripheral, Erik studied the boy. He was staring out the car window, but Erik could see the patches of red tracks from tears on the boy’s face. His bandaged hand laid in his lap where his knuckles bore the brunt of the injuries. Whoever wrapped him up at the school did a decent job. Then he wondered… should he say something?

He looked to Christine for guidance and she could see the question in his eyes. She slightly shook her head. What needed to be said was said back in the school. There was no point in dragging it out and adding salt to the proverbial wound.

Picking up the baby and twins was slightly noisy, but it provided enough distraction to ease the heavy silence in the air. The baby amused herself with her infantile antics while Lotte and Gus took turns sharing about their day at school and with their grandmother. Then they asked about the opera, which Christine responded minus the incident with her temporary co-star.

“Good. So, he was able to blend in? No one noticed?” Lotte asked.

The girl was certainly beyond her years; Erik had to give her that. “It wasn’t a disaster, and no one noticed. Thankfully, my opera has still remained the same.”

A caustic sound suddenly echoed in the van. There was only one culprit who would make that noise as Erik twisted his face to glare at Raoul. The boy still was looking out the window and he didn’t seem to notice the scowling mask. But the baby burst into giggles as another different distraction permeated the air.

That was one way to kill the foul tension and just in time as Christine pulled into the driveway. She grabbed Erik’s hand before he could release his seatbelt and waggled her eyebrows.

“It’s your turn with the baby. I got the other kids.”

His blood chilled.

xxXXxx

Did he really think he had somehow gone to Heaven in this world? No… this was Hell in disguise. God couldn’t have chosen a more fitting punishment for the vilest of sinners. This was truly Dante’s ninth circle of Hell complete with fire and brimstone.

The baby cooed as she smiled brightly up at the Phantom who was struggling to maintain his composure as he removed the offensive object from her person. He frantically looked about the room to where it could be disposed since he was running out of air from holding his breath during this process.

“You put it in the diaper pail to your right.”

Erik would not have taken the object to be a “pail” based on the odd shape by his foot, but he supposed it would make sense. Now, how to open it?

“Lift the lid,” Lotte explained as she stood behind him.

Erik did and slammed the lid as quickly as he could so he could breathe in the sweet, fresh air.

Lotte giggled. “Daddy reacts the same way too. Diaper duty is not his favorite, but he knows it makes Mommy happy when he helps.”

“I’m glad to be of service,” he muttered as he now was left to clean the baby up and put on a new diaper.

Lotte guided him along the way, even correcting him when he had put the diaper under upside down. But at least the baby was now clean as she gurgled happily.

“I can take her if you want,” Lotte offered as she held up her arms. “You survived the experience. That deserves a reward.”

Erik handed the baby over to her and watched in awe over how lovingly Lotte doted on her sister. He felt this sudden urge to ruffle the hair on top of Lotte’s head. He kneeled to her level but caught his arm midway as he stared at the girl with confusion. Why would he want to do that? What purpose was there in that sort of touch? His hand retreated before Lotte could notice as she lifted her violet eyes to him.

“I know this is difficult, but I’m glad you’re trying,” she said. “The only lucky one here is her since she doesn’t know what’s going on. To her… you’re still Daddy. Gus doesn’t show it, but he’s scared. I know he seemed brave this morning, but that’s because I was there at his side. He doesn’t like things that he doesn’t understand, or he doesn’t have control over. He’s afraid Daddy will never come back. And Raoul… You know already how well Raoul and Daddy get along. Just please understand that Raoul is also scared too. He may not say it or show it, but I know my brother. This really shaken him. All of us to be honest. I wanted you to know.”

Her speech floored Erik. He really hadn’t taken the time to consider how his presence was affecting the children. And this girl… she was so astute, so perceptive. It was evident she cared very much about her brothers’ feelings and she cared that Erik knew what was going on. Even her helping him spoke volumes.

“You should also know you don’t have to wear your mask around us,” she added, her eyes fixated on the porcelain. “There is nothing to be ashamed about.”

Her small hand rested upon the cool surface, quietly waiting for his permission. Erik knew from what Christine told him that Campbell wore the mask when the kids had friends over and when they went out in public. He could see in Lotte’s expression that she wanted to see him in the familiar setting and while Erik was still astonished that his face held no abhorrence to this family… He couldn’t find the courage within himself to permit the exposure.

Maybe it was self-preservation, maybe a little selfish, but Erik jerked away from her. The move clearly hurt her as Lotte took a step back and hugged her sister tightly to her chest. The feeling of his rejection should not have affected him, but Erik felt a slight pang in his chest as Lotte gave him a small, watery smile.

Softly and keeping the tremor out of her voice, she said, “If there’s anything you need to know… just ask away. I wasn’t kidding when I said I would help you and I mean to keep my word.” She began to turn on her heel but looked back shyly. “I know my Daddy is with you and it’s going to take time… But I know you and he will find yourselves again.”

She left the room.

He never thought a child could affect him as much as Lotte had in that moment. Indeed, she was much wiser than her years intended, and it did put him to shame that he could not grant her one request about his mask. It was difficult considering he had a dealt a lifetime where the mask was a necessity… a tool for survival. Without it… He wasn’t the Phantom. He was vulnerable.

He was Erik… a man.

Releasing a shaky breath, Erik stood on trembling knees. Lotte… she _softened_ him in minutes. He had to get a grip on his emotions.

And… for what? Here he wasn’t the imposing Opera Ghost. What should it matter if he were to let that part of him disappear for now?

“I cannot lose myself,” he murmured to the empty room. “You _know_ who you are.”

Finding his resilience, Erik dusted off the slip of emotional weakness to rejoin the rest of the family downstairs. As he walked past the boys’ bedroom, he heard the tell-tale sniffling and weeping behind the door.

_Raoul_.

Then he heard the soft murmur of a feminine voice and recognized Christine. He had no desire to eavesdrop; however, he silently stood at the door as he made out words of comfort.

This basketball team thing really was important to him. Erik had no concept of what basketball was, but once again, the sudden urge to go inside… an instinct gnawing to escape flared in his breast. It wanted to be at Christine’s side, including the boy. To speak reassuring words and to stop those tears.

He, unknowingly, had his hand on the doorknob as he twisted it. Then reason penetrated him… the feeling gone. He moved away from the door as if it scorched his flesh.

He couldn’t… He can’t.

So, he fled.

Little did Erik know; Christine had heard the doorknob rattle and she hopefully waited for her husband to enter. When he didn’t and the heavy footsteps moving away told her he wasn’t going to come, she lowered her gaze in dismay. Even Raoul thought his father would come and the disappointment was too much to stomach.

His mother regrettably had to offer apologies on his father’s behalf. “I’m not condoning it, but these circumstances are strange as they are. Give him time. Your father will come back.”

Raoul looked away.

xxXXxx

A few minutes later Christine came down to start making dinner. She passed Erik with the twins and the baby, and he was entertaining them with some magic tricks. Christine paused to observe them and was quite impressed with this talent she hadn’t known her husband had.

As quickly as it came, the sooner it deflated when she remembered _her_ Erik didn’t know tricks. But _this_ Erik apparently did.

At least the children were in awe and it put smiles on their faces. Now, if only there was a smile from one more child…

Christine glanced over her shoulder as Raoul hung back at the foot of the stairs and watched the show. The bandage was gone from his hand since the bleeding stopped. There were several marks left on his knuckles from where he hit it, but at least he only hit the wall hard enough to draw blood, and nothing more.

She gave him an encouraging tilt of her head to join his siblings. He hesitated but then quietly moved to sit beside Gus.

The sight warmed her heart. _Baby steps_ , she told herself.

Retreating to the kitchen, Christine went about in making dinner. A quick, simple meal was in order. She peeled and diced some sweet potatoes and got them boiling in water for mashed potatoes. Then she grabbed a package of skinless chicken breasts, fresh green beans, honey mustard, Monterey cheese, and crispy fried onions. The fried onions she crushed up finely and added the cheese to mix in for the crust for the chicken. Then she placed the chicken on the baking sheet, coating them with the honey mustard, and added the crust on top of it. Once that was good to go, she put the sheet in the oven and began to prep the green beans.

The vegetables were cleaned and dried. She took out another baking sheet and spread them out evenly. She drizzled olive oil over them and then sprinkled salt and pepper. Once that was done, she added it to the oven so they could cook.

The potatoes were tender and ready to be drained. Christine was adding the potatoes back into the pot so she could finish them when Raoul wandered in.

“Hi honey,” she said with a smile. “Did you like those tricks?”

He shrugged. “They were okay. Not my style.”

She saw through the I’m-too-old-for-magic-tricks act, but at least this was typical growing up behavior. “Do you want to help me mash the potatoes?”

His eyes lit up at the idea as he nodded.

“Great. Go get the masher and I just have to add the sour cream and butter to them.”

Raoul grabbed the masher from the utensil drawer while Christine added in the remaining ingredients. She stepped to the side so Raoul could start the mashing process. Once he had the potatoes flatten, she added a little of the potato water she had saved earlier, then added a pinch of salt. Raoul continued his mashing, mixing everything together. When it looked creamy, Christine got a couple of spoons so they could taste.

“Needs some pepper,” he commented.

Christine agreed and added a pinch of pepper along with another pinch of salt to finish it off. The mashed potatoes were much better. She placed the lid over the pot to keep them warm.

Raoul checked the green beans and chicken. The green beans were brown, and Christine confirmed they were tender. She checked the temperature on the chicken. They still had a couple of minutes to go, but she pulled out the sheet with the green beans and set it on top of the stove.

“Could you set the table for me?” she asked Raoul.

“Okay.” As Raoul busied himself with his next task, Christine took out a couple bowls to put the potatoes and green beans in. The chicken was done, and she took out a plate to set them on there.

Raoul went the extra mile and poured milk for all three children. Then he helped his mother bring the plates of food to the table. She asked him to let them know that dinner was ready. He left and Christine went back to the kitchen to get the baby’s dinner. She settled on sweet potato turkey. It was close to what they were having. She poured the grain and carrot mix into the sweet potato and stirred it up.

Everyone was sitting at the table when Christine returned with the last meal for the youngest family member. They said grace… Well, it was Christine and the children who did. Erik looked a little uncomfortable and she made a mental note to ask him about it later. He had the same uneasy look the other day too when they had dinner. The food was dispersed, and everyone began eating.

Except for Erik.

He was again pushing his food around on his plate, but the mask would not come off. Christine had hoped that their conversation earlier at the opera house would loosen him up about the mask. She had told him that his face never bothered her. Did he not realize that he didn’t need it around the kids? She knew breakfast had been sprung on him without wearing it, but why was he insisting on it?

Christine cleared her throat to get his attention. She mimed taking off the mask to him and there was that same reluctance in his expression from this morning. What felt like too long of a minute, Erik finally removed his mask and set it beside his plate. In that moment, a sense of normalcy returned, and the children began talking amongst each other.

Somehow the conversation led to Disney movies after Lotte said her music teacher reminded her of Belle from the way she was dressed today. This prompted Erik to ask who Belle is, which earned loud gasps from the twins.

“From _Beauty and the Beast_!” Gus and Lotte said in unison. “Tell us you have heard of it.”

“ _La Belle et al Bête_ ,” Erik replied in French. “I am familiar with the fairy tale, but I don’t see the fascination in it.”

The twins exchanged looks and both blurted, “Mom! Can we watch _Beauty and the Beast_ after dinner?”

Christine laughed. “Sure. You know I can never turn down that one.”

“You will _love_ it,” Lotte gushed. “There’s Mrs. Potts, Chip, Lumiere, and Cogsworth…”

“Not to mention Gaston who has the best song _ever_ ,” Gus declared.

He arched his brow. Evidently, this was a different version of the story he was accustomed to. And he didn’t recall singing in the story either.

Christine gave him a devilish grin.

xxXXxx

After the kitchen table was cleared off, they all gathered around on the couch as Lotte inserted the DVD into the player.

The last thing Erik had expected was the colorful animation and the music that went along with it. It seemed they all got into the singing mood. Even Raoul was feeling better to join his brother in the rendition of no one does this like Gaston, including pantomiming what it was that this Gaston can do.

When the movie concluded, the twins turned hopeful gazes towards Erik to hear his verdict.

“It was certainly lively than the written story. Although, I do have some questions about the loopholes…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gus waved at him, interrupting. “Besides that, did you love it?”

Love was too strong a word, but he managed a smile. “I did enjoy it.”

The twins high-fived each other. “Tomorrow night we have to watch _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_.”

“Is it like this one was? With the singing?” he questioned.

They nodded.

He couldn’t decide if that would be tortuous or not. But it did make the twins happy so why should he grumble and complain?

“All right everyone,” Christine chirped. “Bed-time.”

This time there was no wheedling to stay up longer. All three children got ready and Erik had baby duty once more. Lotte got done first so she could help him. Christine didn’t comment but she did look pleased that Erik was interacting with the children.

Good-nights and good-night kisses were given (Erik didn’t feel it was appropriate for him to do so), and soon it was he and Christine alone in the bedroom.

She sat on top of the comforter, tucking her knees under her chin, as Erik took the initiative to remove his mask without her telling him. It was progress as she hid her smile.

“I have to say that today wasn’t too bad,” she remarked. “Despite the unexpected drama, I call it a win-win.”

“Indeed.”

“You know… you could have joined me when I spoke to Raoul.” Her tone wasn’t accusatory, just pointing out the fact.

“And to say what? No… it was best I was not present.”

She sighed. Perhaps he was right. But she wasn’t going to press it. “Well, you should know that Raoul understands he had overreacted. The coach was in the office when I got him, and he told me that he does believe Raoul has good chances joining the team next year at the junior high. He does need to practice some more. In fact, he offered the other boys who didn’t make it either to come to the practices if they wanted to work on their skills. They just cannot go to the games.”

“That’s considerate,” Erik said carefully. “Why did he get upset at all?”

She gave him a “really” look. “Raoul has your passionate temper. Emotions first, logic second.”

The comparison annoyed him. He and the little Vicomte double were _nothing_ alike.

“You had asked why we named him Raoul. Before I tell you why, you should know that I found out I was pregnant not long after we began sleeping with each other…”

TBC…


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of mystery behind what’s going on, but I think it’s time to go back to the past once more with Christine and her Erik. Hope you all like it!

**Chapter 10**

_Twelve Years Ago…_

Christine stared at the double line result from the pregnancy test. This was the fourth one she took and glancing at the pile on the bathroom counter… they all showed the same double line.

_Pregnant_.

She knew darn well how it happened. But they had used protection… she was on the pill… And while they were not 100% guarantee, she thought the chances would be greatly reduced.

Until…

Her eyes widened when she remembered their tryst in his office at work. That time Erik forgot to put on a condom, and being hazy and overcome with desire, Christine didn’t remember to remind him either.

_Well, there you go_.

She set the latest test next to the rest and wove her hands into her hair as her mind raced with the images of the next nine months: her belly growing, food cravings, rehearsals, would she be able to perform in the last trimester; then images of the future: a newborn in her arms, the show, Erik holding the baby, the baby’s first steps, traveling and singing, the baby’s first words…

_I’m going to be a mother_ , she thought slowly. _Erik’s going to be a father._

Any doubts or worries faded away as joy and happiness spread through her. Placing her hands over her belly, Christine smiled softly as she envisioned the little girl or boy now within her. Would she know as time went by? Already she was overwhelmed with love and anticipation to meet this little one.

Then the tiny nagging voice whispered… _What about the opera? What would Erik say?_

So far, she was only imagining all the good things that she forgot what this would mean for the production. They were well underway with rehearsals and the opening night was still several weeks away. She figured she would still be able to sing as the Countess, but for the next performance after that… Christine would have to step down until the baby was born.

And Erik…

They have been a couple for a couple of months, and while they haven’t discussed too much about the future, they had spoken about what they hoped to have one day. Both had wanted to get married at some point. It had been subtly pointed out that marriage wasn’t in the cards right now or necessarily with each other… but it was something they both wanted. At least they knew their relationship would have the potential for a future if they so wished.

As for children…

_“I always saw myself with a girl and a boy,” Christine said, snuggling against Erik’s side as they finished watching a romantic comedy where the main character found herself burdened with an unwanted pregnancy, but over time and a lot of pie baking, she found herself loving the baby after all and finding the courage to walk away from her unhappy marriage. Andy Griffith was the best supporting character with his randy and surly comments that both Christine and Erik couldn’t stop laughing. As for the topic of children… it was something she just wanted to share after the movie. “What about you?”_

_Erik curled his hand around her waist, pulling her closer, but as soon as she uttered those words, he stiffened._

_She felt him go rigid and Christine tilted her face upwards to peer into his eyes. “Erik? What’s wrong?”_

_“You want… kids?”_

_She frowned. “Not now but one day, yes. Why? Do you not want kids?”_

_He was taking too long to answer, and she could tell he was thinking how to tell her that wouldn’t come out wrong. Her brows furrowed deeper as she said, “Just spit it out Erik. If it’s no, then say it.”_

_“No.” There. He said it._

_Christine couldn’t deny that it stung a little, but they were dating. They wanted a future, and this came with the territory. “How come?”_

_“Christine,” he groaned._

_“Hey. It’s a perfect, legitimate question.”_

_“And there’s a perfect, legitimate answer.”_

_“Okay. What?”_

_He exhaled. “It’s pretty obvious.”_

_“Ah.” She nodded. “Slow swimmers?”_

_Erik balked as he gaped at her. “N-no!” he stuttered. “W-Why would…?” Seeing her teasing grin, he saw she was defusing the situation with her uncanny blunt sense of humor. “I don’t know how you do that. Take something serious and then turn me completely inside out.”_

_“It’s a gift,” she said, grinning broadly. “And sometimes you need to lighten up a little too. I’m here to remind you.”_

_“Thank you,” he said earnestly. Truth was… he needed that reminder. It was one of the many things that he…_

_“It’s about your face, isn’t it?” she asked quietly._

_“That and I didn’t have a greatest childhood either.”_

_“Who does? My parents divorced, remember? And my Dad moved out of state.”_

_“Yeah but at least the decision was mutual,” Erik pointed out. “My parents… You know couples who shouldn’t be together, but against the odds, still remain together?”_

_She did. She also couldn’t believe he was finally bringing his parents up. He had hinted now and then that he didn’t get along with them, but he never went into specifics. Like showing her his face… this was a big step for him. Another ultimate sign of trust. Christine sat up cross-legged and faced him, so he had her undivided attention._

_Erik had to chuckle, but it only served to remind him that Christine was indeed a rare woman. No judgment. Only acceptance and patience. Most women would rather pick a fight on the topic of children, but not his Christine. Taking a deep breath, he started his story._

Christine closed her eyes as she thought back to what he shared that evening.

Maddy and Xavier Campbell were teens when Erik was conceived. For the lack of the better term… he was a “oopsie.” They both came from strict, conservative households and sneaking out on dates and engaging in premarital sex was them rebelling. Naturally, their families were outrage about the pregnancy, but the solution was simple.

Marriage.

Xavier was seventeen and Maddy was sixteen and with both parents consenting… they were wed in front of the justice of the peace. A church wedding was out of the question. Once the ceremony was done, the parents pushed them out into the world to be on their own. Xavier was close to graduating so he stayed in school while working night shifts at a local bowling lane. Maddy dropped out and flitted between part-time positions until she could no longer be on her feet.

The pregnancy had started off normal. Everything looked good. But Maddy was young and it didn’t take long for her to decide the doctor’s orders was merely advice. Erik said it was a miracle he didn’t wind up with other serious health issues. His father tried to be the mature one and convince Maddy to listen to the doctor, but she was a married woman and an adult in the sense, so she knew better. It was that selfishness and disregard that had her go into labor prematurely and for Erik’s face to be what it was.

He could only imagine the horror on his parents’ faces and the doctors and nurses at the hospital when Erik was delivered. But he shared that as soon as he was cleared healthy… the surgeries started.

His maternal and paternal grandparents wanted nothing to do with him, but it was their Christian duty to try and repair the damage the best they could. They paid for the surgeries in those early years, but when little could be done to give him a normal face, they stopped altogether. Even when Erik was older, he tried to reach out to his grandparents, but his attempts were ignored. So, he gave up on trying to forge a relationship with them.

When Maddy and Xavier were on their own to pay for Erik’s surgeries, they couldn’t afford it on minimum wage and so the alternative solution was a mask. That was his earliest memories… his masks. They varied from all different types of materials from what was around the house to whatever was cheap at the store. Some were tight, some were scratchy, some were too loose, and some were painful. The painful ones involved using a gel or paste to secure it to his face. Eventually they used wire to fit over his head and that was way more comfortable compared to the rest.

_“Now I use this material that is very thin and transparent, so it is easily hidden in my hair. No one can see it and gives my mask the illusion that it is staying on my face on its own,” he explained._

But the Campbells’ immaturity hadn’t changed since Erik came around. His father did try, but he would become resentful when Maddy wouldn’t. They both wanted to hang out with their friends and stay out late and party and do normal teenager stuff. As a compromise, Erik would be dragged along, and he wind up being an accessory since no babysitter would stay out past midnight. If he fussed at all, then he was handed off to someone else. He learned quickly that being silent was his best option.

Even at home it was better for him not to make too much noise. If he cried, then his parents would argue over whose turn it was to see what he needed. They would spend more time yelling at one another and wanting to avoid the responsibility, then just go ahead and be a parent. They were never abusive towards him or to each other. They loved to fight and shout, but that was the extent. On occasion, one would storm out of the house and be gone for the night, but Erik was never left alone. But he would have to listen to the other spouse grumble and complain about the other.

As Erik grew older, his parents depended on him to be independent. This gave them more time and opportunities to pursue their interests. They would remember to have birthdays for him and celebrate holidays, but he always felt that they expected him to feel grateful for whatever they could give him. They could complain all they want about their lives, but Erik had no right to complain.

When Erik went to school, he knew right away how different he was compared to the other children. The mask was the biggest clue and he hardly had any friends since the only thing people cared about was what beneath it. He was bullied a lot until Erik snapped one day and fought back. He admitted it was the best day ever since the bullying stopped and his parents were pleasantly proud of him despite the suspension he received.

_“That was one of the rarest emotional responses I got from them. It was like they took noticed finally. But it didn’t take long for them to pat themselves on the back, congratulating themselves on how wonderful parents they were that I stood up for myself. They seriously took credit even though they were not involved. Then that became the pattern…”_

His teachers recognized that Erik was a gifted student and surpassed his peers in testing and grades. When the recommendation was made for him to skip a grade, guess who said they made it possible? His parents. It was always Maddy and Xavier Campbell… never Erik. His successes and accomplishments were eclipsed by his parents’ need to be the center of attention. Then when they would throw in how they were teen parents… of course, the doting parents facing adversity and overcame it all to raise an intelligent boy.

When Erik discovered the joys of music, he felt he had to be greedy and keep it to himself. He begged and pleaded with his teachers that he would be excused from concerts and other performances. He didn’t want his parents to find a way to twist his love around. He took the incompletes and zeroes for not performing and his parents had assumed his low grades in music was due to shyness. They didn’t push the issue, and neither would he reveal why he would rather fail despite the fact he could succeed.

_“Music was mine. Everything else I did was tarnished by their constant hunger for attention. I had one teacher in high school who understood. He wanted to meet with them and talk about it, but I talked him out of it. It would have done more harm than good. All I had to do was bade my time before I could let it be known that music was truly mine and they could lay no claim on it.”_

He had researched various colleges and universities and their music programs. He wanted distance from his parents and Juilliard was the farthest. He started filling out applications and applying for scholarships. Since he skipped a grade, Erik graduated early from high school. He got his acceptance letter from Juilliard (along with several others) and along with it… a full ride scholarship.

It was much to his satisfaction that he announced to his parents his plans for school and that he was leaving as soon as possible. He had plenty of money saved up from composing music and selling it and had taken great lengths to hide his earnings. He even found an apartment where he could move into with the help from his teacher.

_“Mr. Garnier was one of the few people I had a connection with. He encouraged me, motivated me, pushed me. It always bothered him that my parents took credit for everything I’ve done. Mind you, it could have been worse. They were awful people but not bad people, you know? Anything I needed help with for college or selling my music… Mr. Garnier lent a hand. He even helped me into researching for emancipation.”_

While everything was falling into place for him, he assumed… _no_ expected his parents to react negatively to his request for legal emancipation. It was the final piece he needed to declare himself completely independent. Bitterly, he recalled:

_“I should have known how they would take the news. My whole life they were emotionally distant. The only inclinations of affection they ever expressed was when I did something that benefitted them. But I think the only thing they heard was that I was leaving the house and it meant they were no longer beholden to me. They were ecstatic I had a full ride. They wouldn’t have to pay a thing. But that was the only emotional response I got. As for my legal emancipation… they couldn’t have gotten me sooner to the courthouse to make it all official.”_

From that moment on, Erik was on his own to pursue his love for music and his dreams. Mr. Garnier, his high school teacher, had kept in touch until he became ill and passed away. At least he lived long enough to see Erik’s first original opera performed. Despite being sick at the time, Mr. Garnier had been in high spirits and couldn’t stop smiling at his former pupil’s success.

_“He had been more of a father to me than my old man._ Cornell Street _was dedicated to him and I had a character based on him for everything he had done for me. I was just grateful he could see it before he died. Afterwards, when I started getting all these offers and money, I wanted to do something more to show my appreciation for him. So, I created a scholarship in his name and honor at my alma mater and I helped his widow pay off all the medical bills. I also knew I wanted to come to Michigan since he was from there. It was a way to still be close to him and honor his memory.”_

As for Maddy and Xavier Campbell, Erik hadn’t heard much from them apart from the occasional phone call on birthdays and well wishes for holidays. Until they showed up at his penthouse in New York out of the blue to visit him. Of course, the purpose for the visit was made clear almost immediately.

_“They wanted money. They had been following my career and as soon as I made it big… they wanted a piece of it. They were_ kind _enough not to ask for an exorbitant amount from me, but just enough to say thank you for bringing me into the world and giving me the best life, they could make despite all the hardships and sacrifices along the way. As much as I wanted to despise them for the audacity, they were my parents. And I supposed in their own warped versions of good parenting, they did love me. I still had Mr. Garnier on my mind, and I figured the right thing to do was to give it to them.”_

He figured once the Campbells had what they wanted; they would be on their merry way. However, they surprised him and stayed for the next few days. They even went to his opera even though it wasn’t their cup of tea. They did it for him. But a few good days couldn’t heal the emotional scars they left on him.

Ever since then, Erik and his parents maintained a distant relationship of phone calls and emails exchanged. Physical visits would occur when they needed something, and it wasn’t very often.

Yet, his relationship with his parents left him in a state where he didn’t know what it was to be a good father. He didn’t want to somehow turn into them if he had a child. In addition to take his face into account… he wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.

No… children were not something he wanted.

Of course, he had been quick ( _too quick_ ) to assure Christine it wasn’t a dealbreaker or he was permanently resolved to the notion. It was only here and now at the present that he didn’t want children.

_I guess we were jinxed in that moment_ , she thought. While Erik’s feelings were not presently favorable, Christine was still pregnant, and he was the father. That was the reality.

Now she had to figure out how to tell him.

xXx

First, Christine had to have no doubts about her test results before she said anything. She immediately gone to the doctor the next day for a blood test. A few hours later it was confirmed that she was very much 100% pregnant.

Her Mom was the first to learn of it. Catherine was shocked to say the least, but her shock was overridden by the news that she was going to be a grandmother. She didn’t care that it was an accident. Her daughter was giving her first grandbaby. Christine did, however, had to stop her from calling any of their friends and family about the news.

“Erik needs to be the next person to know,” she explained. “The only reason I told you Mom is that we live together, and I know you were going to find out eventually.”

“Very well. You tell him soon, you got it? Because there is so much to plan and to get ready for when this little one arrives. Now, let me see if I can take a guess…”

“Mom!” Christine exclaimed, her cheeks blushing. “I’m hardly showing!”

“Doesn’t matter. Women have a sense about these things.” Catherine placed her hands around Christine’s mid-section as she stared in concentration. After being silent for a few minutes, she replied, “Boy. It’s definitely going to be a boy.”

“Uh-huh. Okay Mom.”

“Hey now,” Catherine mock-scolded with a finger wave. “I was right about that blue dress. And I know I am right about this too.”

“You had a lucky guess,” Christine retorted, rolling her eyes. “I have to go. I told Erik I would meet him for dinner.”

“All right. Have fun and don’t forget to tell him!”

“Mom!”

Catherine waved good-bye and was startled when her phone rang. Noting the name on the screen, she lifted her brows in surprise. “Hello! Why, yes. This is a surprise. How are you? Good. When did you get back? Christine is going to be so thrilled to see you!”

xXx

She didn’t get a chance to tell him at dinner. Christine couldn’t seem to find the right way to bring it up, and it didn’t help that in the middle of their meal that Erik received a phone call from Richard about a delay in getting the wigs and some of the costumes shipped. That put him in a foul mood and he contritely had to end their date early so he could find out what was going on.

She decided she was going to tell him at work when she showed up. But that morning, Erik wasn’t in early like he usually was. Instead, there was an emergency that involved more than just the costumes that Erik needed to take care of. He left his notes with Toni to lead the rehearsals in his place.

Since there wasn’t anything she could do in the meantime, Christine threw herself into the music. But try as she might, her mind became easily distracted with how she was going break the news to Erik that she messed up a couple notes and she almost tripped another performer. It also didn’t help that her morning sickness decided to rear its ugly head.

Christine managed to keep it together to inform Toni she needed to take a quick break and fled to the bathroom. She rinsed her mouth with water from the sink and closed her eyes, willing the nausea to fade. Christine ended up making one more trip to the bathroom stall before she rejoined the others on stage.

Emily asked her if she was all right.

“Yeah. Just something I ate didn’t agree,” Christine made up as an excuse, and was relieved her friend didn’t follow up with another question. Not that she could when Toni was ordering everyone to return to their places at once.

Christine hoped Erik would show up at some point during the day, but he didn’t. She checked her phone messages and he had sent her a text while she was rehearsing that he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. She typed him back a reply saying she missed him, and rehearsals was not the same with his guidance. Not that Toni did a bad job. She was capable of following Erik’s vision on the stage, but she couldn’t flirt with Toni.

He had sent her a smiley face with a response: _I hope not. But if you need to flirt with someone…_ The next text was a picture of his celebrity crush Amy Adams. Cheekily, he typed: _I would not be opposed to this match._

_For you, I will do it if you do the same for me._ She sent him a picture of Christian Bale. She laughed to herself as he took a picture of himself with a dejected look. _Aww, did I just ruin a fantasy for you?_

_No…_

_I so did!_

_But… he’s Batman! And British._

_I do love a man with an accent._

_Exactly! I don’t stand a chance with him in the same room._ Another pouty picture.

_Very well. If you start talking with an accent, then you go first. Unless he’s wearing the Batman suit. Then all bets are off._

_Minx._

She so loved teasing him. Before she knew it, Christine had sent _I have other news for you._

_Good, I hope. I have been dealing with disaster after disaster._

She froze. Was she _really_ going to tell him about her pregnancy through a text message? The flirtatious banter meant he was in a good mood despite the other issues occurring. Christine bit her lip and knew she owed it to him to tell him in person. It was only fair.

_Christian Bale is going be in another Batman movie this year._

It was a lame substitute, but it was the best she could think of on the spot considering she was about to spill the beans in such an informal manner.

_Does that mean if I take you to see your boyfriend in this movie, then I can be rewarded?_

She smirked. _If Amy Adams is ever in town, I will kiss her for you._

Flipping her phone shut, Christine vowed that tomorrow… Tomorrow she will tell him.

xXx

The next morning Christine was relieved to see Erik had returned. She recognized his car in the parking lot and checked the time. He should be in his office still so they will have some privacy before having to be on stage.

“You can do this,” she told herself. Getting out of her car, she strode into the building and headed straight to Erik’s office.

She saw the light on in the office, and as she drew closer, he was on the phone. He hadn’t looked up yet, but she straightened her posture as she was about to open the door…

…And the baby had other ideas.

Christine cursed the inopportune morning sickness. Why was this proving to be so difficult for her to tell him? She wondered if any other mother-to-be’s went through this same frustration. When she finished, Erik was not in his office and she groaned that she missed another chance.

Perhaps, she could tell him before rehearsal starts…

But they were not alone, and Erik had his director’s face on so she knew personal matters will have to wait until later. He did smile in her direction to let her know he was happy to see her, but that was the only personal attention he would allow in that moment.

Before she started singing, Christine did send a quick prayer that she could keep it together until she and Erik were alone. Maybe their baby understood how important it was not to play around with Mommy when Daddy didn’t know yet. At least she had no incidents, and she didn’t make any mistakes.

Thank God for small blessings.

Lunch was finally called. Christine was already practicing what she was going to tell Erik when a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Ah, the rumors are true. Little Lotte is now a leading lady.”

Her eyes lit up as she turned around and threw her arms around her best friend in the world. “Raoul!”

TBC…


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know it’s a day late but Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! There is a lot more Raoul/Christine in this chapter, but Erik has some pretty good moments in here. Fair warning… there is a lot of sappy cuteness ahead.

**Chapter 11**

_Twelve Years Ago…_

Instantly, Raoul returned the embrace, hugging Christine tight as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “I hope you don’t mind I snuck in. I wanted to surprise you.”

“You sure did. Why didn’t you tell me you were home?” Christine demanded, playfully hitting him on the chest.

“I was going to, but I thought… where is the fun in that? Besides, I wouldn’t have gotten such a warm welcome if I did,” he teased. “But I did tell your Mom in case my Mom told her first. I didn’t want the surprise to be ruined.”

“You got me Mr. Fancy Photographer,” Christine said, squeezing him once more in a hug. “How was the shoot in Argentina?”

“Hot. Can’t believe I am going to say this, but I missed Michigan’s weather.”

“What!?”

“I know, I know! The heat was unnatural, and I was desperately in need for a wintry mix to randomly show up.”

“Never thought I live to hear such a comment made.”

Little did Christine know; Erik saw her embracing the newcomer and his heart stopped at the brief exchange of kisses. Then his eyes narrowed when the other man had not let go of Christine from his embrace. It was quite clear the two were familiar with each other from the animated way they appeared to be speaking and how the other man could not seem to stop smiling or look away from Christine. He appeared to be entirely devoted to her with his attention, and this was instantly sending Erik’s blood to a rage.

What was strikingly clear about the man was the seemingly symmetrical perfection of his face. From his sloping nose to his chisel cheeks and jaw to his boyish smile that reached his twinkling blue eyes, complete with a perfectly set of flaxen hair. And from the distance he could see the man’s brightly white teeth against the golden tan of his skin.

Would it be too much to ask for a coffee stain or a piece of spinach stuck to break this nauseating image?

Meanwhile…

“Christine, I believe I have captured the attention of one unhappy customer.” Raoul gestured as she looked behind.

Erik was surrounded by a couple of the production staff and while he was giving them instructions… he was looking in their direction and his expression was anything but friendly. He was getting ready to bolt over to them, but duty prevailed, and she could almost feel his increasing impatience to no doubt find out what was going on.

“That would be my boyfriend, Erik,” she said.

“So that’s your Erik. Interesting. And the mask…?”

“His business. C’mon. Let’s end his suffering.” Christine looped her arm through Raoul’s as she led him over to Erik. By the time they reached him, the other men were gone to complete their tasks.

Christine felt her heart skip a beat at the ferocity in Erik’s eyes. Not because it was obvious, he was jealous (which was completely ridiculous), but it also seemed to hold a dark promise of tangled sheets and toe-curling pleasure as a reminder of what they are. She did let go of Raoul’s arm to stand beside Erik who was quick to put his arm around her waist and pull her closer to him, clearly marking his territory.

“Erik, I want you to meet Raoul Chagny. Raoul, this is Erik Campbell, my boss and boyfriend but we never mix the two together. Raoul here is my best friend. We grew up together,” Christine explained as she introduced them.

Raoul offered his hand for a friendly handshake, and Erik accepted. He made certain to put a little extra force in it as he sized up this “best friend.” He was pleased that he had a few good inches over Raoul and probably strength too since Raoul practically screamed the word “soft.” Erik bet that Raoul wouldn’t say boo to a fly.

To his credit, Raoul didn’t flinch at the handshake and met his gaze coolly and calmly. “It’s great to finally meet you. Christine has told me so much about you.”

“Funny. She hardly mentioned you.” Then winced as Christine jabbed her elbow into his side.

“I have. Just not by name,” she rejoined.

Damn. She had mentioned something about her best friend and some of the crazy adventures they got mixed in doing as children. Erik assumed the friend was female. Now to learn that she was really he… well, that changed everything. Raoul knew everything there was about Christine. He saw her growing up from a gawky young girl to a mature young woman. He was there for her during her parent’s divorce and the other ups and downs of being a teenager. He was probably Christine’s first kiss. Maybe even first crush. It’s not unheard of for friends to develop feelings for each other. Hell, Erik and Christine were friends first!

The rational part of Erik’s brain was whispering to him that he was being ridiculous for being jealous. Even if it was all true… that was all in the past. Christine was with _him_ and that should mean something.

_But they have history. Can I compete with that?_ He shot back at his logic.

“How long have you been together?” Raoul asked.

Christine did look at Erik with adoration. “About two months now. But we have known each other for a while.”

Erik returned the affectionate look, and if possible, he thought he saw Christine glowing.

“I am a lucky man to be with Christine.”

“Yes, you are,” she said cheekily. “Raoul here is a photographer. He just came back from Argentina where he was shooting supermodels in bathing suits.”

Erik arched his visible brow as that would account for the tan, but he wouldn’t have pegged Raoul for a photographer. He was dressed rather formal with the ironed flat trousers and blazer jacket over a white shirt; although the collar of the shirt was undone and he wore no tie, but Erik assumed it must be casual Friday at the office.

“It wasn’t all bathing suits,” Raoul said with a wink. “I also do serious pictures too. But the models tend to pay more.”

“That’s… interesting.” Erik settled to say. If Raoul was surrounded by beautiful supermodels all the time, then he may not be a threat after all. Then again, he might get bored with them and want someone real like Christine.

“Pays the bills so can’t complain.” Raoul was infuriatingly charming, and Erik really wanted to find a flaw in his so-called perfect veneer. And he wondered why Raoul would show up suddenly when he knew that Christine was in a committed relationship. Couldn’t be coincidental.

“But the real treat is Christine here,” Raoul continued. “Leading lady. I always knew you had it in you Little Lotte. I am sorry that I missed your debut, though.”

“You were in the Middle East covering the troops at the time,” she said. “That was important.”

“Still. As your best friend, I should have been here during your great triumph,” he said. “But I will for this production. Taking some time off work.”

“I hope not for my expense,” Christine teased.

Raoul shook his head. “I’m being totally selfish here. Though really, I wanted to help my Mom out. It hasn’t been easy for her since my Dad died last year.”

Christine solemnly nodded. “Raoul’s father had a heart attack. It was sudden.”

“My condolences,” Erik told him. “I am certain I can get you and your mother tickets for opening night.”

“That would be incredible,” Raoul said, grinning. “She would love that. Tell me, Little Lotte, who are you playing this time?”

“I am—”

“Excuse me,” Erik interrupted, giving Raoul an odd look. “But why are you calling Christine ‘Little Lotte’?”

Christine flushed. “It’s a silly nickname Raoul had for me when I was a girl. Now, in _Il Muto_ I am the Countess—”

“Hang on, there Christine,” Raoul interjected. “It’s not some silly nickname. There is a fantastic story attach to it.”

“Oh God,” she moaned in mortification. “You wouldn’t…”

Raoul flashed her an evil grin. “That’s the thing about best friends… we have the perfect blackmail material. So, Erik, has Christine ever told you about the Angel of Music?”

“No.”

“Okay, when we were really little, Christine’s dad used to tell us these fantastical stories and one of them was about the Angel of Music. There was a girl in the story named Little Lotte who longed for the Angel of Music to come to her to teach her how to sing since she was the only person in her village who couldn’t carry a tune…”

“You don’t have to tell him the story. Erik, you don’t want to listen to it.”

“I don’t know Christine. I’m already intrigued.”

“You can forget Amy Adams,” she said under her breath. But Erik didn’t care. Judging from Christine’s behavior, he was curious why this might be a source of embarrassment for her. Plus, he thought the pink hue spreading across her nose was cute.

“Anyways, the Angel of Music comes and teaches Little Lotte. Eventually, she is transformed into a nightingale with her voice and people from all around the world would come to listen to her sing. So, Christine, here, got it into her head that she wanted the Angel of Music to teach her as well. Everywhere she went she would start screeching in this horrendous pitch to get the Angel of Music’s attention. And I mean, _everywhere_. From the playground, to church, to the store, at our houses, in the car… She would keep making this terrible noise. I swear the cats and dogs from the neighborhood would be howling.”

Erik couldn’t help laughing. Christine pouted as she said, “I wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“Oh, Lotte, you were,” Raoul corrected her, removing a tear from the corner of his eye. “One random person approached her and thought she was dying or something. But Christine just innocently says, ‘Nope. I must be awful so the Angel of Music can hear me.’”

Erik could easily see a mini-Christine doing exactly that. “Did your Angel ever hear you?” he teased good-naturedly.

“No. But I did grow out of it.”

Raoul shook his head, which Christine saw and reached over and punched his arm. Chuckling, Raoul said, “I think I sufficiently embarrassed you enough. Erik, do you mind if I steal Christine for lunch so we can catch up? That was the purpose of my visit unless you guys had plans or something.”

As much as Christine wanted to spend time with Raoul, she really wanted to talk to Erik, but her boyfriend beat her to it before she could speak up.

“That’s all right. I have some paperwork that needs my attention and a couple phone calls to make. I’m afraid I won’t be much company, Christine,” Erik said regretfully. Raoul seemed like an okay person, but the jury was still out as far as he was concerned.

Christine tried not to be disappointed, but she knew the opportunity had passed. She was going to have to find another time to tell Erik the news.

“Very well. But don’t forget to eat too,” she told him, reaching up on her toes to give him a kiss.

Erik did take advantage to deepen the kiss purely for his sake and a silent reminder to Raoul. But her friend didn’t seem nonplussed when Erik released her.

“I’m craving a Coney dog. How does that sound?” Raoul asked Christine as they walked out of the theatre. Erik sighed as work beckoned him.

xXx

Lafayette Coney Island was busy as always during the lunch rush, but they were lucky to grab a tiny table in the back of the restaurant. It didn’t take long for their Coney dogs and French fries to arrive as they eagerly dived in.

“You know about my relationship. How are things between you and Ashley?” Christine asked as she bit into her Coney dog, the chili and onions dribbling out. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin while Raoul finished chewing his bite.

“Unfortunately, we broke up,” he said soberly.

“Oh Raoul. I’m sorry.” Christine reached over and squeezed his hand. She liked Ashley a lot and they had seemed so happy the last time she saw them.

“Me too. Just wasn’t meant to be, I guess,” he said. “Seems to be my luck.”

“Ashley is the one missing out. What happened if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A lot of things. But mostly because of the long-distance with my job. Ashley wanted me here all the time and I couldn’t promise that.”

“Well, what about now? You said you were taking time off.”

Raoul gave her a side grin. “Ashley moved on. Really quickly too. I guess there might have been another already in the picture.”

“In that case, you’re better off without Ashley.”

“Yeah,” Raoul sighed deeply. “You and Erik seemed very happy.”

“We are. He means the world to me.”

“As you are to him,” Raoul remarked. “I didn’t miss those cues. I half-expected him to start growling and grunting, ‘Woman, mine.’”

She snorted. “I’m quite sure he did. Sorry about that.”

“Nah, I don’t blame him. I would do the same if the roles were reversed.”

“I would like to see you try.”

“Hey! Now, that hurts,” he said in mock-pain. “You don’t think I could lay claim to my woman?”

“If she was inanimate, then yes,” Christine jested as he scoffed. “Even as kids, I got you to do whatever I wanted.”

“Once in a while. Okay, some. Fine. All the time. You win.”

She laughed. “See? I still got you wrapped around my finger.”

“You have been the only one Little Lotte. Can’t figure that out.”

“I’m special that’s why.”

“Yes, you are. One of a kind.”

They shared a companionable look as they continued eating their lunches.

It felt good to have Raoul home, and in the time, they have been together, Christine realized how much she had missed him. The last time she had really seen him was over a year ago, and since then it was usually email or badly connected phone calls as they stayed in touch. And since Raoul was going to be sticking around longer, then she had plenty of time to spend with her best friend. They had a whole year’s worth to make up after all!

As much as they liked to rib one another, he was truly the brother she never had. They were inseparable as children, and along with her sister, they were the Three Musketeers. But unlike Meg, Christine and Raoul had a special bond that never wavered as the years went by. They had met when they were in preschool when Christine lost her scarf to a blustery wind in the playground. It got stuck on the monkey bars and Raoul managed to free it before it was lost forever. They became thick as thieves after that day.

Over the years, they did make other friends, but when it came down to who knew her best… it would be Raoul Chagny.

He hadn’t been kidding when he said he had plenty of blackmail material on her. But she had the same on him too. They both seen the good, the bad, and the ugly that comes with childhood into adolescence. No matter what curveballs were thrown at them… their friendship continued to stand the test of time. Christine had no doubt even when they were old and gray, she and Raoul would remain the best of friends.

He was there for her when her parents divorced, sneaking into her room to hold her as she wept so she wasn’t alone. He was also there through crushes and heartaches and even during the worse bouts of acne at the most inopportune times.

Likewise, she was there for him during his low points too. She stood by his side during the years when thunderstorms frightened him and stuck up for him when he was teased about his name. She even helped him through the awkward facial hair fiasco when he could only grow a pencil thin moustache. That had been heartbreaking for him since he wanted to grow a distinguished moustache or one long enough, he could curl around his finger so he could look like he was plotting as a B-rated villain.

While Christine would consider the divorce the lowest of her lows, Raoul’s would be his father. They didn’t see eye-to-eye very often and they did eventually have a falling out. It wasn’t until a few years ago that the two made amends. Raoul’s father’s death was a difficult one, but at least they were able to put the past behind them.

Christine knew Raoul would never forgive himself if he hadn’t.

Besides seeing each other through the difficult and emotional side of things, they had been sweethearts too. There was a time, very briefly, in middle school that she and Raoul decided to take their friendship to the next level. They did the holding hands and the quick smacking of lips. People often said they made an adorable couple and they felt they should at least give it a go.

While it had all been very innocent, Christine and Raoul’s romance were short-lived. They learned they were better off as friends, and it wasn’t long after that when Christine began crushing on Colin who would later be her first serious boyfriend. Raoul also moved on too and they were much happier being in the familiar territory of best friends.

Christine debated if she should tell Erik of her ill-fated romance with Raoul, but it had been so long ago… and it wasn’t like it led to anything significant. Her love for Raoul was brotherlike and anything else sent a sickening feeling to her stomach.

Speaking of which…

Christine pressed her hand to her stomach as another wave of nausea hit her. So much for getting a reprieve.

“Excuse me,” she muttered as she fled to the bathroom. Once she felt she had regained her senses, Christine returned to the table and was grateful that Raoul got her a refill on her glass of water.

“Thanks. I needed that.” She took a long draught of the water as it coursed down her throat with relief.

“You’re welcome. You looked, uh, a little green before. Couldn’t handle the yumminess?”

“Something like that.” Christine looked at her watch. “I need to head back. Thank you for lunch Raoul.”

“My pleasure. Are you sure you’re, all right? I don’t remember you ever having to run off like that.” His voice was filled with concern.

“It’s not a big deal.”

He gave her a look that said he knew better. “Christine,” he said seriously. “You can’t fool me. I have seen you wolf down three Coney dogs without once getting upset. You’re hiding something. Spill.”

There was little she could get passed him, but if she told him, then he would be the second person to know before the father. She couldn’t do that to Erik.

“I’m fine. Really, Raoul. But I do need to get back to rehearsals. Erik is all about punctuality—girlfriend or not.”

She thought Raoul was going to push some more, but he reluctantly dropped it. However, he did insist on making sure she got back to the Opera Populaire in one piece, so she decided it was best to humor him and his chivalry.

When they returned to the opera house, Raoul tagged along with her inside. He wanted to watch more of the rehearsals and said he would hide in the shadows if Erik said he couldn’t.

“No offense but with your hair and that tan… you would make a terrible phantom. You would glow in the dark.”

“Your vote of confidence in my skills at hiding are sorely lacking. I would blend in with the architect, obviously,” he said.

“Now that I can buy.”

They were laughing, nudging each other playfully, when they nearly ran into Erik. He was standing out in the hall, trying not to look like he was clearly waiting for Christine to return from lunch with her friend.

Her _male_ friend.

They were so lost in their amusements that they failed to see him, and Erik was ready to steady Christine when she lost her balance, but Raoul already had his arm around her waist and his hand in hers.

“Very graceful Little Lotte. Even startled, you manage to lose your balance!”

“Har har,” she said sarcastically. “I’m not late, am I?” This, she directed to Erik.

“No, I… I was on my way inside,” Erik explained, feeling a little petty if he told the truth that he had waited. He didn’t want Raoul to think that Erik felt threatened by him or there were cracks in their relationship. There wasn’t. But he didn’t want to plant the seed either.

“Good. That’s a relief,” Christine said with a smile.

“Hey Erik, mind if I stick around and watch?” Raoul asked with a beaming grin.

“I’m sorry but I would rather you not. Everything is still pretty rough, and I want my performers focused,” Erik stated firmly.

Raoul shrugged. “Oh well. Opening night, it shall be then. I don’t fancy being a statue right now. I’ll see you later, Little Lotte.”

“Yes, you will. Bye Raoul.” Christine gave him a hug, and then proceeded to head to the doors with Erik behind her when Raoul cleared his throat.

“Erik, I would like you to ask you something. I need one minute.”

Erik looked at Christine and then backed at Raoul. “I… guess.”

Once Christine was gone, the two men stood there quietly. Then, Raoul spoke up. “I’m just going to cut to the chase since I know you have rehearsals. As her best friend, we’re going to be seeing each other a lot and I couldn’t help but feel that we got off on the wrong foot. If you’re free later this week, I would like to meet up, have a beer, and get to know each other. I know Christine would love it. You already made her so happy and that makes me happy.”

He was so congenial in his request that Erik had to wonder if this was ploy or test. But Raoul made a good point. Currently, they were the only men in Christine’s life with her father living out of state, and there was a good chance they would be running into each other with Christine present. While Erik hadn’t finished totally assessing Raoul, he wanted to make sure there wasn’t any lingering feelings that could potentially threaten his happiness with Christine. If they were just friends, then there was no need to worry.

“Yeah. I’m free tomorrow. Seven, good?”

“Great! Seven it is. We’ll tell Little Lotte that the menfolk need to do their talk. She’ll roll her eyes, but she would really appreciate it.” They agreed on a location within the city and Raoul wished him good luck with the rehearsals, then he left.

He was good. _Real_ good.

There was little doubt in Erik’s mind that Raoul Chagny was in love with Christine. But the real question remained: did Christine know this?

TBC… 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope many of you are enjoying this wrench with Raoul’s presence. But there are some revelations of sorts. Can I say that jealous Erik is so much fun to write? At least we don’t have to worry about retaliation of the Opera Ghost at this point. Enjoy everyone! 

**Chapter 12**

_Twelve Years Ago…_

It would seem Christine was never going to have the opportunity to tell Erik about her pregnancy. The Fates were clearly conspiring against her. Even after rehearsals wrapped, she couldn’t get Erik alone long enough to tell him and she didn’t think just blurting it out without some preface or leading up to it would be a good idea either.

But another part of her was concerned Erik wouldn’t be as happy as she was. She knew his feelings about children and how his childhood played a factor in that decision. In fact, learning about his childhood did help a lot in making sense of the things he did. Erik didn’t have friends other than associates or people with common professional interests. He only socialized when he had to, and there were his control issues. The man had to know every tiny thing that was going on in the opera house. But there was no denying his micromanagement did produce results. Even if someone didn’t agree with Erik’s decisions… they would eventually find the logic in it and will admit he was right all along.

Of course, Christine had been working on his need to control. There were plenty of times when she would become the dominant one in their lovemaking, and Erik was learning how good it could be to let go.

Now, she was going to find a way to make that translate over to work so he wouldn’t be as stressed or feel the need to shoulder everything.

Then she would be able to tell him about her pregnancy.

When she got home, she was still in a sour mood and brightened a little when she smelled her mom’s cooking. Her mouth began to water at the scent of Italian spices and knew Catherine was making her famous spaghetti and sausage in tomato sauce. It had been Christine’s grandmother’s recipe and a favorite growing up. All she knew was that she needed the comfort food more than ever.

She then gave a start when she heard laughter from the kitchen followed by a masculine voice.

Her brows disappeared into her hair. _It couldn’t be…_

Yes. Yes, it was.

“If I didn’t know better, I would swear you are stalking me,” Christine told Raoul as she entered the room. He got up from where he was sitting and gave her a great, big hug.

“The only thing I’m stalking is your mother’s cooking,” he said as he kissed her cheek.

“That’s true. All he talked about was how hungry he was. I saw no other reason than insist he stay for dinner. Can’t let him wither away into bones,” Catherine said, winking.

Releasing Christine, Raoul took his seat back at the table and she followed by sitting next to him. “How was rehearsal?” he inquired.

“Exhausting but good,” Christine said. “It’s good to be home.”

“I bet. How did Erik take the news?” Catherine asked.

Christine froze. She forgot her Mom knew.

“He seemed surprised, but I plan on meeting with him tomorrow for a beer. You know… guy-to-guy bonding,” Raoul explained, thinking her mother meant about him showing up unannounced.

“That’s different,” Catherine commented. She turned around as Christine was silently pleading her not to say it, but it was too late. “I would think with the baby he would want to start planning things with Christine.”

Christine covered her face.

“Baby?” Raoul snapped his head to her. “Wha…? Wait, you’re _pregnant_?!”

Christine groaned and Catherine gasped. “Oh, Christine. I’m so sorry, honey. I thought… you said you were going to tell him.”

“I did but things happened.” She uncovered her face and looked into Raoul’s shocked expression. “Well, cat’s out of the bag. But you cannot tell anyone until I can tell Erik.”

“I promise.” Raoul even made the Scout’s honor gesture. “That makes sense at Lafayette’s. I knew there was something up. Congratulations Little Lotte. Although maybe not so Little anymore.”

That earned him a punch in the arm as he yelped. “Hey! I meant it as a compliment. Like you’re entering the next stage in adulthood.”

“Sure, you did.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t anger the pregnant lady.”

“Rule number one,” Catherine chimed as she continued to give the pot a final stir.

“Point taken,” Raoul grumbled, rubbing his arm. “So… what are you hoping for?”

“A healthy baby,” Christine stated. “But Mom thinks it’s going to be a boy.”

“I don’t think. I _know_.” Catherine carried the pot over and set it in the middle of the table. “I knew I was having girls when I was pregnant. The XY chromosome is strong in this one.”

“That sounds like a bad line from _Star Wars_ ,” Christine said with a laugh.

“Laugh all you want. Just wait when you give birth. Then you’re going to eat your words.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Mom.”

As they ate, Raoul regaled the two women with stories of his time overseas. After touring the Middle East, he went to Argentina. He took more than pictures of supermodels. There had been protests and a volcano eruption from Chile that covered the neighboring cities along the border. There was unrest due to the struggling economy and increasing foreign debts. He even travelled to Peru and Brazil, snapping pictures here and there.

While he spoke, Christine couldn’t help but notice that underneath his happy-go-lucky attitude and charming self, there was something off. No other person would have seen it, but Christine knew better him than anyone. Something was eating at Raoul and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

After dinner, Catherine retired to work on the payroll for the dance studio, and Christine and Raoul did the cleaning up. When she was certain her mother was out of earshot, Christine pounced.

“What’s wrong Raoul?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

She gave him a puh-leeze look. “Raoul. This is me you’re talking to. I know when something’s up and something is definitely up. What happened?”

He sighed, then looked at her with a melancholic smile. “There’s no getting passed you is there Little Lotte?”

“No there isn’t. Tell me.” Then in a quiet and gentle tone, she bid, “Is it Ashley?” She knew he had to be taking the break-up hard. After all, Raoul and Ashley had been together for five years. That was no small feat in the dating world.

He bowed his head and gave a nod.

“Oh. Raoul.” Christine wrapped her arms around his back as he shuddered under her. Pressing her cheek between his shoulder blades, she held him as he sobbed uncontrollably.

“Five years. _Five effing years_!” He managed to get out. “Ashley was my world! We had plans for the future. We were even thinking about adoption.”

Christine gasped as she released Raoul so he could look at her. Tears still swam in his eyes as he continued. “Yeah. We were looking at agencies while I was in Argentina. We considered other options too because you know… But we thought adoption was the best. Hell, I was asking around where I was to learn about the procedures. Then, out of the blue, _wham_! That’s it. We’re done. Ashley kept insisting it was the distance, but we have been doing that all this time. We made it work. We were happy. I don’t know when it changed, but in that split second… everything was gone. And I tried, Christine. I really did. I even flew back earlier than planned just to see if we could patch things up. Then I saw Ashley had moved on. There was nothing I could do or say to change things. So, I went back to Argentina until now.”

He paused as he saw Christine’s eyes watering. Cupping her cheek and stroking a tear away, Raoul softly said, “Don’t. I cried enough.”

“Yeah, but then learning I was pregnant probably didn’t help considering what you are going through.”

“I’m not upset about that. Christine, I couldn’t be happier for you and I demand first dibs as godfather,” he said, lightening the mood.

Christine choked back a laugh. “Are you sure?”

“I am. Nice tux, a cigar, and an offer no one can refuse.”

“Your sense of humor is still intact, I see,” she stated, shaking her head. “But in all seriousness Raoul. Are you really okay?”

He exhaled deeply. “It will take some getting used to being single again, but I can manage. I promise.” He wiped away the remaining tears from his face. “Your mother’s cooking started the healing process.”

“I cannot argue you with that.”

They shared a grin and finished putting the dishes away in the dishwasher and the leftovers in the refrigerator. Catherine was still working on the studio’s accounts, so Christine and Raoul decided to watch a movie.

It was a Monty Python comedy, a classic of all ages, as they settled into the cushions with Raoul’s arm slinging over her shoulder. Right as the hilarious credits started to roll, Raoul casually brought up Erik.

“So, there’s a bun in the oven, but no ring?”

“We’re unconventional,” she retorted. “But honestly, it was a surprise to me. Of course, the one time we do forget, and those sex ed. warnings proved to be right on the money. Anyways, I’m knocked up and we have a show less than a month away and I need to tell my boyfriend, but I cannot seem to get close to bring it up.”

“Sorry I turned up the way I did,” he said apologetically.

She waved her hand. “Don’t be. You didn’t know and that’s not your fault. But…” Christine sat up, her thumbs wheedling in her lap. “I don’t know what will happen if I do tell him. He made it no secret that children were not a priority for him. Well, the option was possibly on the table for later, but he might have said that to save face since I told him I wanted kids.”

He frowned. “Does it have to do with his mask?”

“Yes and no. Though, the mask is the smallest of concerns. And before you ask, yes, I have seen him without it. No, I am not going to say what he is hiding. That’s his business. But I care about him very deeply. Actually, I think I’m falling in love with him.”

She said it. In that moment, Christine knew it was true. She was in love with Erik Campbell and not because she was having his child, but she really did love him. She suspected she had for quite some time but didn’t want to admit it because it felt too soon. But allowing the words to roll off her tongue felt so right.

She loved him. She _loved_ Erik.

“Wow. You’re glowing Little Lotte,” Raoul said in astonishment.

She turned a dreamy gaze towards him. “I never thought it would feel this way. I never felt this way.” Then remembering what Raoul was going through, she quickly amended, “I didn’t mean to bring that up. God, here I am gloating and you…”

“Christine,” he interrupted, taking her hand. “Don’t stop on my account. I am happy for you. Truly. And you should be happy. Erik seems like a good man. I’m sure he will be over the moon when you do tell him. What man wouldn’t with you?”

She blushed. “I think so too. I just keep getting into my head about it.”

“That’s natural, especially since you two had talked about it. But things change and life can take unexpected turns. I mean, look at us.”

Christine nodded. “True. We would have had the perfect romance.”

“No doubt. How many people can boast about meeting their soulmate as kids? I must admit… I sometimes wondered what would have been if we didn’t break up.”

“You have?” This was news to her.

He bobbed his head. “Yeah. I know we were only in middle school, but I had thought about us as a couple in high school. We would have gone to prom together and I was going to propose after graduation. Then we would go to college—possibly together—but if not, we would take turns visiting each other every other weekend. Have a long engagement and get married when we graduated. We would travel the world. Me taking pictures and you performing on the stages on all the continents. Then once we had enough of the world, we would settle back in the U.S. Either Florida or California. And we would start a family. One boy and one girl and we would have a dog and cat.”

Christine arched her brow. “You _did_ give it a lot of thought. And so young too.”

He sheepishly shrugged. “Silly, I know. I just had this dream. It was so perfect. Being with my best friend for the rest of my life? That was the real love story.”

“It sounded beautiful.” She patted his knee. “I have to confess too. I thought the same. Not in much detail as you did, apparently, but I did think about our wedding.”

“Guess life had other plans for us, huh?”

“No regrets?”

“No regrets,” he echoed.

“Raoul, at the risk of sounding cliché, I know you will find someone better than Ashley. Someone who deserves and loves you.”

“Thank you. I know you’re saying that to cheer me up and to be the godmother of my future child.”

Her jaw dropped in mock-shock. “What? Are you implying I have ulterior motives?” She smirked. “Hey, it’s only fair. You are going to be the godfather after all.”

Raoul chuckled. “It’s a deal. And if you want, since I’m meeting Erik tomorrow, I can dig around—you know—about that.”

“That’s sweet but you don’t need to.”

“Don’t take away my fun to mess with him. It’s customary that the best friend torments the boyfriend. You know your Dad would want me to do it in his place. I won’t bring the shotgun since it’s too late and all.”

“Wow. Did you insult my virtue?” she teased.

“You did it for me with Ashley, remember?”

She tossed her head back against the couch. “Fine. But don’t be too hard on him. I don’t want you scaring off my baby daddy.”

“You have my word.”

“Pinky promise?” Christine held up her pinky and twirled it in the air.

Raoul hooked her pinky finger with his. “There. Better?”

“Much.”

They smiled and returned to the movie.

xXx

The next day there was no rehearsal as it was cancelled for the sets to be put together. Erik still showed up to oversee the work in progress. He was barking orders in a more agitated state than usual and that was because he couldn’t stop thinking about Christine and her “best friend” Raoul.

He was already regretting his decision to meet with Raoul later that evening.

As it were, his suspicions about Raoul’s feelings towards Christine were very much confirmed as he tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his chest. Erik felt bad that he and Christine didn’t get much time to spend together the other day. It seemed whenever they were alone… all Hell would break loose. The distractions were getting old and Erik just wanted to be with his girlfriend.

He had stayed at the opera house late but decided he would surprise Christine for a midnight stroll through her neighborhood. It was a nice warm evening and the stars and moon looked spectacular. Then maybe he could entice her to come home with him since rehearsals were cancelled. He could go to work a little later and stay for a short while… perhaps he and Christine could go to the movies.

He hadn’t expected to see Raoul leaving her house.

Erik had parked his car on the street and went to unbuckle his seatbelt when he glanced up and saw the other man walking out. It appeared he was whistling as he walked down the drive and headed in the opposite direction of Erik’s car. Erik looked at the time and saw it was almost ten-thirty.

It was late but not super late to leave from a visit. But Raoul had seen Christine earlier that day. Did he really have to see her again in the same day?

Erik couldn’t help what he did next.

He decided to follow Raoul.

Being discrete, Erik kept his headlights dimmed and some distance behind him. Since Raoul was on foot, he kept his speed to a crawl and hoped no other cars would be behind him.

His tailing didn’t last long as Raoul arrived what Erik assumed was his mother’s house. He lived a couple blocks away from Christine, which was close but too close to Erik’s liking. That meant Raoul could stop over any time he wanted and could stay as late as he wanted.

Erik felt ill to his stomach at the possibilities where Raoul could insert himself in Christine’s life and disrupt what they have.

He decided to go home before he would do something, he would likely regret… like spying through the windows. But Erik’s self-inflicted torture didn’t stop when he got home. All night he tossed and turned, sleep evading him, as images of Raoul and Christine kept popping up. The worst of his dreams was when he was proposing to Christine and Raoul showed up, announcing his love to Christine, and then getting down on one knee as well. Christine looked back and forth between the two before she leapt into Raoul’s arms.

“Sorry Erik but Raoul and I have too much history together,” she said before kissing Raoul passionately.

He had woken up in a sweat over that one.

The rational side of him told him he was being absurd in thinking that Christine would leave him. Yet, his irrational side made a good argument that Raoul knew Christine better than he and how can anyone compete with that? It didn’t help that Christine failed to mention that her best friend was a guy. Why would she keep that to herself? Did she think he would react badly knowing her best friend was the opposite gender?

Well, this obsession right now wasn’t helping his case. But maybe there was some merit in Christine not saying Raoul’s identity. He had jumped to the conclusion that Christine and Raoul must have dated in the past. What if it wasn’t an assumption but a conclusion? If they had dated, then Christine didn’t want him to know about it. How serious were they?

They didn’t talk a lot about their romantic pasts other than they have been with other people. For Erik, his past relationships were little more than flings or dates for certain social events. He chose not to get too close, and frankly, the women he had been with were shallow and boring. They were only interested in the attention he got and the people that he knew. Would that even count as a relationship?

With Christine, she admitted she had little time for dating when she was at school and starting her career. She had been on dates here and there, and she might have seen the same person on more than one date, but the only serious relationship she had mentioned was her high school boyfriend. But she never said anything about Raoul.

Perhaps he was being paranoid. But Erik felt that omission carried more weight than she was letting on.

All he knew was that he didn’t want to lose her. Not to Raoul, not to any man.

_I’m going to have to let him know that I would fight for Christine. Make it clear that I have no wish to step down and any chances he would have had with her is gone. His loss: my gain_ , he thought.

Christine was certainly special. He still could not believe how easily she accepted his face. Never a look of pity, or fear, or disgust. She barely batted an eye and whenever they were alone… she would always remove his mask first. Since they often spent the most time at his place, his mask was hardly on in her presence.

Then there was the lovemaking. It was always intense and when she would take control… Erik trembled over how incredible it was when she took the reins. If she could do that when he was mask-less… then clearly that meant that what they have was real. That she might even love him…

The ’L’ word. Erik had been doing his best to avoid thinking that word or letting the possibility of hope fill him that she felt the same as he. That was a big step, and he wasn’t sure if now was the right time to say it.

However, it was becoming more of a challenge every day for him not to simply blurt it out, so she knew and the whole world knew. And now with Raoul in the picture… He didn’t want his declaration to be tainted because he was jealous or be used as a tool to keep Raoul at bay.

Yes… he _really_ wished he hadn’t agreed to Raoul’s suggestion.

Perhaps it wasn’t late to cancel. He could make up something about the opera and Raoul would be none the wiser. If Christine decided to question him, then he could use the same excuse. She would understand.

While the idea sounded appealing, Erik didn’t like the fact he might have to lie to Christine. It left an awful aftertaste in his mouth.

_Back to square one_ , he thought. _I will have to go._

Or what if Raoul backed out? He might see it as a bad idea after all and then Erik wouldn’t have to think of an excuse. Although, the chances were slim considering that it was all Raoul’s idea in the first place.

Then Christine had texted him later that day to say she was happy that Erik and Raoul were going to be hanging out together. She told him to have fun, but not too much fun. She didn’t want to be used as fodder if it could be helped.

Well, so much for that. She knew about it _before_ rather than _afterwards_.

When the time came, Erik’s mood still hadn’t improved as he drove to the agreed location. It was a sport’s bar in one of the casinos in the city, and Erik just hoped that Raoul wouldn’t suggest they should gamble as well. Not that Erik didn’t mind gambling. But he didn’t relish the idea if Raoul decided to say Erik liked to gamble to win over Christine.

Erik was a couple minutes late in trying to find a parking spot, but once he stepped inside the bar, he had no trouble finding Raoul in the crowded area. He was sticking out like an Olympic torch with his blonde hair and golden tan. Erik made his way over to the bar where Raoul sat. The stool next to him had a coat draped over it to hold it for Erik. Raoul turned, saw him, and grinned as he removed his coat to place it in his lap so Erik could sit.

As Erik slid into the seat, the bartender had already set a glass of red wine in front of him. Raoul was drinking a beer—a lager of sorts based on the amber color.

“I hope you don’t mind I ordered your drink,” Raoul said. “Christine told me you were a wine guy, so I ordered you a Cabernet Sauvignon. I was told this was a good variety.”

Erik lifted the oversize glass and swirled the red liquid inside. He brought it under his nose and got a whiff of smoke and berries. Taking a sip, he recognized it as being a California wine, which wasn’t bad, but Erik preferred the heavy, dry taste from Bordeaux. But he had to give Raoul credit and he thanked him.

The younger man grinned and raised his tall glass. “Here’s to a new friendship,” Raoul toasted.

Erik humored him and raised his glass in return. As they both took a drink from their respective glasses, Erik carefully studied Raoul from the corner of his eye. He was dressed a little more casually than the previous day with a navy-blue striped shirt and a pair of jeans. Even his hair seemed more relaxed with the softened curls over his forehead. And Erik happened to notice the dimples from when he smiled a second ago. He was such a startling contrast of day and light when seated next to Erik who was night and dark.

Since Erik came from the opera house, he was still in his formal attire, but he did leave his tie in the car. His suit was black and the shirt he wore underneath was gray. He opted to wear his porcelain white mask rather than the flesh-tone cloth one. Of course, he was starting to regret that decision by the way the mask captured the light on his right side. It did get the attention of a few other patrons on that side of him, and he didn’t miss Raoul’s look either.

Raoul was trying not to be obvious from the occasional glances, but Erik couldn’t fault the curiosity. Everyone always was when they see it. _Well, except for Christine_ , he thought with a lift of his lips.

“So, Erik, where are you from? Christine said you were not from Michigan.”

“No. I grew up in Bennettsville, South Carolina. Just a couple hours north from Charleston.”

“Southern boy. Wouldn’t have guessed without the accent.”

“Yeah, I lost it as soon as I could. Though, I am sure it would return if I ever went back.”

“I heard that can happen. Christine also told me you are a composer and director among many talents. How long have you been in the music business?”

“Years. Since high school. How about your photography?”

“Going on about four years now. I went to Grand Valley State and got a job as a photojournalist for a newspaper my senior year. It was all right. Helped to pay the bills but I was feeling restless after graduation. So, I decided to become a freelancer and travel the world. Christine said you had done some traveling too. Where abouts?”

“London, Paris, Rome. Mostly in Europe before coming back to New York City and then here.”

“I love Europe. Especially Paris,” Raoul said. “I actually took some photos of the Paris Opera House there. It was mainly for Christine since I knew she would get a kick out of them, but the building is certainly beautiful. Majestic.”

“That it is.”

The small talk continued with learning about the other. Raoul was an open book as he talked about growing up in the suburbs of Detroit. He even shared how he first met Christine as preschoolers and the scarf that brought them together. How inseparable they were as they grew older. He told Erik that in high school he was involved in the arts and sports, playing basketball, track, and baseball. Erik did crack a smile when Raoul explained how Christine kept insisting, he join her in choir and drama, and was finally dragged into drama senior year and somehow landed the part of Happy Loman in _Death of a Salesman_.

“I never expected to get anything. I did it because Christine dragged me into the audition. But did she audition for any part? No… She stuck to the musicals and against my will I was in the school play.” Raoul shook his head as he chuckled fondly. “Not that I’m going to admit this to her… but I actually did have fun. That’s my one secret from her so you cannot tell her I said that.”

Erik smirked. “Very well. I can see she was feisty even then.”

“You have no idea.” Then Raoul frowned when he realized what he said. “Actually, you do! You’re dating and working with her.” He finished off his beer and motioned for the bartender for another.

Erik was nursing his wine and didn’t hear Raoul’s question. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked how did you and Christine happen? I’ve been talking your ear off and I want to hear your version.”

“I’m sure it’s not as different from Christine’s. We became friends, I asked her out, and we kissed.”

“That’s not how Christine told it,” Raoul said, grinning like the cat got the canary. “She said she ran into you and when she tried apologizing you chewed her out. Then she auditioned, you groveled, and you assumed she would go out with you. Afterwards came the friendship, but she said you were fumbling to ask her out, so she took the initiative with the first kiss.”

Erik didn’t know if he quite liked Raoul knowing the _whole_ story, and it was apparent, Christine and Raoul were really close if he knew all that. Erik ended up finishing his wine and another glass was soon poured for him.

“Christine wasn’t kidding when she said you two were best friends,” he finally said. “Everything?” Indicating if Christine told Raoul literally everything between them.

“Well, not everything. But enough. It helps to provide the guy perspective if she is feeling frustrated or if a guy does something stupid. And… I am a guy.”

“Oh.” Yeah, he wasn’t really comfortable with the idea that if he and Christine had problems… she would turn to Raoul for help.

“Don’t feel bad. I usually end up apologizing on behalf of our species for the things that we do. Although, I did get an earful after you two first met. Was it really that bad when she ran into you?”

Softly, Erik replied, “My mask came off. I thought she saw or noticed. But she didn’t.”

“That all?”

Erik snapped his head in Raoul’s direction. “Look, you may not understand, but it’s a big deal to me.”

Raoul held up his hands in defense. “I didn’t mean to offend. Sorry, Erik. I guess I kind of blew it there. Christine told me—under no circumstances—to bring up or allude to your…” Here, he gestured over his right side of the face. “I had no idea. Let’s rewind it back.”

“Christine was prepping you.” He hadn’t intended it to sound like an accusation, but it came out that way.

Raoul sighed. “Christine is hoping we can be friends. I do too. You are dating my best friend, and we will be seeing each other a lot since we’re important to her. It’s not very often I get introduced to her boyfriends.” Then, becoming serious, Raoul lowered his voice as he locked eyes with the masked man. “The fact that you and I are here right now speaks volumes about how Christine sees your relationship. I want to make sure she stays happy just like you want to keep her happy. So, I need to know… what are _your_ intentions with my Little Lotte?”

Erik raised a brow at Raoul’s tone. Despite the boyish charm and friendly attitude, he could be cold as steel when he wanted to be. It was an interesting change and Erik had to wonder if his earlier suspicions were still correct. Raoul could be the overprotective best friend when needed, but there was heart in his words.

Resting his elbow on the counter, Erik leaned over to Raoul with his own piercing gaze. “Christine’s happiness means more to me than anything. Even music and that was my only interest before I met her. I would give up anything than to see her sad or unhappy. I know I don’t deserve her, but I will be damned if I do something to mess it up.”

“Those are pretty words, Erik. You say that now, but what about a couple months later? Or a year? Or two? Do you want a future with her?”

Erik was now clenching his fist. What was this boy insinuating? Did he think that Erik would break her heart? Or was he trying to say that Erik might not have a future with Christine?

He shouldn’t have said it. He knew that. But Erik’s temper got the best of him as he spat:

“Are you saying her future is with _you_?”

Raoul balked. “W-What?”

“Are you in love with her? Is that what this is all about? You want to figure out her boyfriend so you can play your cards right if I screw things up?”

Raoul’s eyes widened. “Wait, no. That’s not it…”

“Admit it. You are in love with Christine! I’m not blind!” It was all making sense. This ploy to get him out for a drink was not for friendship. He wanted to get dirt on Erik. Well, Erik wasn’t going to fall for it. “What my relationship is with Christine is _our_ business. And it is certainly not in Hell _yours_.”

“Whoa, whoa. Hang on, man!” Raoul made a timed-out gesture. “I’m not _in_ love with Christine. I love her, yes, but…”

“Have you gone out with her?”

“Yes. But we weren’t together for very long.”

There it was. Confirmation. Raoul and Christine _had_ dated. Erik felt like he had been doused in iced water. There was nothing worse than to be best friends and former exes. Once more the history was present in front of Erik. Raoul knew Christine better than he did, and he couldn’t… He didn’t want to lose her.

“Look. You had a chance with her. This is _mine_. I am not going to screw this up, so you can forget thinking you might have the slightest chance.”

“I know,” Raoul said solemnly. “I was the reason Christine and I didn’t work. And if the Fates were kind… I would have been married to her already. However, that’s not what happened. Believe me, Erik, when I say, you have no worries about me getting between you and Christine. I have no wish or desire to break you two up. Nor will I want to. If you make her happy, then that’s good enough for me.”

Erik eyed him with uncertainty. Raoul seemed sincere, but like Raoul said… Those were pretty words.

“You may not believe me now. That’s up to you. But rest assured, I have Christine’s best interests at heart here. And… if it’s any consolation, I think you’re right for her.”

Erik didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t as he finished his wine. Likewise, Raoul finished his beer and asked for the receipt for the drinks. Erik was about to object, but Raoul insisted.

“I asked you to meet me. I’m paying.”

The bill was settled, and they got up from their stools and started to head to the parking structure. They were quiet during the journey until they were about to go their separate ways to their vehicles when Raoul asked:

“Can I still get those tickets for my mother and I?”

Erik was stunned that after that scene they had, Raoul would nonchalantly bring up opening night. “I said I would. I don’t break my word.”

Raoul nodded. “Just checking. Well, I’ll see you around.” He waved good-bye and left Erik with his thoughts about how strange this evening turned out to be.

xXx

As soon as Raoul got into his car, he picked up his cell phone and punched in Christine’s number. “Little Lotte? Yeah, we’re leaving now. It was interesting to say the least. He didn’t say the words, but I can tell… he’s in love with you. I wouldn’t be worried about the baby. Uh-huh. Christine, you got yourself a perfect man for you. He has my approval.”

TBC…


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone! This chapter here will conclude the flashback and then we will return to the present time and our regularly scheduled plot… You know the drill afterwards!

**Chapter 13**

_Twelve Years Ago…_

The next day came and went. Then the next. Christine was nowhere getting closer to telling Erik about the pregnancy. About a week passed and with the opening of _Il Muto_ approaching, Christine knew she was going to have to come clean with the truth. Her morning sickness was getting better, but sometimes certain smells would set her off. Whenever Erik would appear concern, she would brush it off with some excuse and that would be the end of it.

She couldn’t even use the excuse that things would get in the way to justify why she hadn’t told him.

Everything was back on track with everything delivered for the show, sets were done, and tickets were in the process of being sold. The only obstacle that remained was Christine herself.

Raoul was convinced that Erik would be thrilled when he finds out. He was adamant that Erik was head over heels for her. His display of jealousy and staking claim in their relationship was all the proof that Raoul needed to know that Erik’s feelings were authentic towards Christine.

“The man would rather cut off his arm for you than to see you hurt,” Raoul told her after another day of not telling Erik. “Why are you dragging your feet?”

It was a good question, and Christine wished she knew. She had been on board with telling Erik. She had come so close too! But then she started backing away from it and even she couldn’t think of a good answer as to her hesitance.

Perhaps it was what Raoul told her after he had drinks with Erik. Christine knew she was falling in love with Erik, and to know that it was possibly reciprocated was amazing and scary at the same time. But they hadn’t been together for very long. And while neither had been involved in other long-term relationships, Christine worried this was all too fast.

What if this was a mistake?

What if she had the baby and they try to make it work, and things become too strained or tense that they break up?

The baby would ensure they would be in each other’s lives, but what if Erik decided to move away?

Then a horrible, darker thought pervaded… _what if Erik never wants this baby?_

What would she do?

Maybe she was being selfish with hanging onto Erik without this knowledge being known. Eventually he was going to start questioning when her appearance starts changing and if she waited too late to tell him… how would he take it? Would he be angry at her for keeping it a secret?

Would she blame him?

So far, everything was looking good for Christine and the baby. Catherine accompanied her for the first check-up where the heartbeat was confirmed, and she was able to see the baby for the first time from the ultrasound.

It was tiny. A peanut-shape but Christine already loved it so much.

She carried the picture in her purse for when she was going to tell Erik, but she was only sabotaging herself.

One evening she had spent the night at Erik’s apartment. They had sung together, their voices blending so effortlessly from the duet. It didn’t take long for other passions to be aroused and while they laid on Erik’s bed… she heard him murmur sleepily he loved her.

Her heart leapt at the confession even though he was fast asleep. He probably didn’t realize he said it. She wanted to wake him up and tell him she loved him too. Then tell him they were having a baby, and maybe celebrate some more.

She was poised over him. All she had to do was lean over a little more, shake his shoulder. She could whisper in his ear her love first as he woke up and then place his hand over her belly.

_Coward_. The little voice scolded her as she fell back on the pillow.

The following morning, she still couldn’t bring herself to tell him her feelings or the baby. Her eyes kept flicking over to her purse hanging on the coatrack where the ultrasound image was. It wouldn’t take long to grab it and show it to him.

“Is there something in your purse you want?”

Christine jolted in her seat as she looked at Erik. “What?”

“You were staring intently at your purse. I can get it for you…” He stood up but Christine exclaimed, “No!” Then in a softer tone and what she hoped sounded normal and not uppity, “Sorry. I was just millions of miles away.”

“The show?”

Christine nodded. “I know the last time I did really well. I hope I don’t lose my mojo for being the lead.”

“Nonsense. You will be superb. I have no doubt. Would I lie about that?”

She grinned. “No. I guess it’s just nerves thinking that this has been a fluke and then I am back in the chorus.”

“Not if I have anything to say. I still cannot believe they hadn’t considered you before I came along. What were those fools thinking?”

“I think they were thinking they want someone with some experience and not straight out of college.”

“But that doesn’t always mean someone is not capable if they have the voice and talent.” Erik frowned as he looked down at his omelet. “Christine, there is something I wanted to discuss with you.”

She tensed. Did he know? Did he somehow find out?

“I have been thinking about staying here on a more permanent basis.”

This was new. “I thought you have.”

“In a sense, yes. But nothing is ever etched in stone depending on offers being made.”

“Oh. Have you gotten an offer to direct or something?”

Erik nodded. “I know I haven’t told you before because I wasn’t considering them.”

“And… you are now?” Christine didn’t know what to make from this sudden development. She knew how widely popular Erik was and that people would be scrambling to have him work for them, but since they were together, she assumed that he wouldn’t be going anywhere. Now, she was feeling a little silly and a little childish for presuming he would want to stay in the city.

“I am considering a different route. An investment of sorts. I was thinking about it back during the performances for _The Delicate Prim_ and even when we were moving into production for _Il Muto_. It’s a pretty big commitment I am contemplating but being here… being with you has made me realize how good it has been for me. I don’t want to leave.”

At Christine’s continued silence, Erik took it as a sign to go on. “I have been in negotiations with the owner—Paul Fraser—about buying the Opera Populaire. What do you think?”

Erik was going to buy… the Opera Populaire? That was not where she thought the conversation was leading, but it was wonderful news, nevertheless.

“Erik! That’s great! Is it something you always wanted?”

“To own my opera house? Absolutely. I hadn’t counted on it being this soon or here, but it feels right.”

Christine took his hand and held it. “You will be a fine owner. So, when are you going to make it official?”

“It’s a good thing Paul wants to retire, but he keeps changing his mind about the price. I know he will agree to my terms since I can outbid anyone, but with a new show around the corner, it was best to leave it hush-hush until we’re done with _Il Muto_.”

“That’s probably for the best. This is fantastic Erik! Now, all we have to do to make you a true Detroiter is get some Detroit sports memorabilia, some Motown records, and Faygo.”

He paled. “Um, let’s take it one step at a time. Motown I can handle. I might even stomach the Faygo, but you’re pushing it with the sports.”

“Very well but you have to have at least a Tigers shirt for Opening Day. That’s a requirement.”

xXx

“Christine Ann Daaé! This has been going on for _three_ weeks now! When are you going tell Erik about the baby?”

“Good morning to you too Mom,” she grumbled as she shuffled into the kitchen. “Look, I’m waiting for the right moment.”

“You have been out with him, stayed the night at his place, and you’re telling me that _none_ of those times was the ‘right’ moment?” Catherine gave her daughter a disapproving look.

“It’s not that simple Mom.” Christine grabbed a box of cereal and poured herself a bowl.

“Yes, it is. You say, ‘Erik, I’m seven weeks pregnant. Congrats, you’re a father!’ See? Easy.”

“It’s a delicate situation.” Christine sat down with her breakfast and a glass of orange (hold the pulp) juice.

“Christine, you’re delaying the inevitable. Are you going to wait until you go into labor on the stage? I thought you were excited.”

“I am!” she insisted. “It’s just… Mom, are we rushing things?”

Catherine gave her an incredulous look over her cup of coffee. “A little late for that.”

“Not the baby. I mean—yeah—that is rushing things, but I mean the relationship stuff. We haven’t been dating long and we haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet, even though Erik did say it when he was sleeping… but that doesn’t count. I don’t think he meant to say it like that.”

“Christine, do you _love_ Erik?” Catherine asked.

“I do. I love him.” She paused as she said it again with more conviction. “I love him, Mom.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Christine threw her hands up in the air and sighed in frustration. “I don’t know! Raoul is positive that Erik is the one for me, and I think so too, but now I can’t even work myself up to telling Erik we’re expecting. I want to tell him before the pregnancy advances, but I don’t know why my brain keeps mentally blocking my mouth.”

“That is a conundrum, all right. Would it help if you told him about your feelings first? Get that out of the open.”

“I guess that would. But then I go from saying, ‘Erik, I love you, and by the way, we’re having a baby!’ That might be too much to take in.”

“Well, I wouldn’t spring it like that on him.” Catherine looked her over as another possibility came to mind. “Honey, would any of this have to do with the divorce?”

Christine dropped her spoon. “What? Mom, that was a long time ago.”

“I know but I also remember how you handled it and how you treated your father.”

She wanted to protest but knew Catherine was right. While the divorce between Catherine and Charles Daaé was mutual, it also stung when the reason for it came to light. Christine had been numb when her parents sat both her and her sister down to explain they were separating. They explained it had nothing to do with them and they loved them very much and would still be there for them, but this was for the best. Christine knew they fought about typical married couple things—bills, money, household chores—but she had no idea it was that bad that her parents felt they had to be apart. Then not long after Charles had moved out of the house… her Mom tore her ACL and while Christine and Meg were in the hospital with Catherine… Charles showed up with another woman.

She was young—not too young—but she had to have been a few years younger than Catherine. She had blonde hair and brown eyes and she was beautiful. It was obvious she was also a dancer from her body type and the way she moved… just like Catherine.

But in that moment, Christine simply saw her mother’s replacement and became so irate that she yelled at her father right there in the lobby of the hospital while Catherine was being operated on. Meg had been startled by her outburst since Christine wasn’t known to shout or be prone to anger. Even Charles was stunned but then rightfully appeared chastised and remorseful.

At least the other woman had the decency to know to leave.

Yet, the damage was done. Christine never thought, never _imagined_ her father would cheat. The memories of the loving and doting husband and father all felt like a lie to her. She felt tricked. She felt betrayed. She felt so foolish.

Christine refused to look at him or even acknowledged him after that day. Even the days leading up to him moving to New York, Charles did try to spend as much time as he could with his daughters. But Christine wouldn’t give him the time of day. When Charles was gone, Christine was relieved but also saddened. She wanted to hate him for everything, but despite her anger, she still loved him and that made her angry at herself.

Raoul had been her pillar of strength during that time. She was so grateful to have a friend like him to lean on. At least he understood her pain.

Her sister, on the other hand, didn’t feel the same as Christine did. Meg was upset when she saw _her_ , but she got over it. And the sisters fought when Meg wanted to go with their father rather than stay with their mother. Christine told her she was betraying Mom, and Meg said she wasn’t. And what about Dad? Aren’t we betraying him by staying here?

That did drive a wedge between them.

But as they say… time heals all wounds. And eventually, it did. Christine did manage to keep her relationship going with her father, but there was a part of her… a small part that just couldn’t entirely forgive him. Meg and Catherine might be able to, but not Christine.

“Christine, we know the divorce wasn’t easy on you. And we talked about it in length. Don’t give me that look. Believe it or not, just because your father and I were no longer married… we still spoke to each other. He is still important to my life just like I am to him. We are friends and we turn to each other for advice when we need it. Yet, it was agreed we wouldn’t talk to each other when you were around, but we had many a late night discussing what to do. You weren’t ready then to know why we made this decision. I think it’s fair you should know now.”

“Mom… You don’t… It’s not necessary. I’m an adult now. Relationships end. I get it.”

“Yeah, but I think you should still know. There is a part of you that is holding you back from Erik. You know this. Why else are you running away from telling him?”

Christine heard what Catherine was saying, and there was a lot of good sense in her words. But what was that really true? Was she holding back because of her parents’ divorce in the past? She didn’t think she was, but what if she was deep down?

So, Catherine told her the whole truth. Afterwards, Christine was still reeling from it even as she prepared for the day. But one thing did stick out in her mind:

She knew what she had to do and when.

xXx

Christine showed up at the opera house before anyone and found Erik in his office going over some paperwork. His visible brow was creased in concentration as his hand rubbed his chin.

He was so handsome sitting there, but something was missing.

“Erik?”

He looked at her and smiled. “Christine. Come to get some early practice in?” Then his smile began to fade as she continued to look at him intently. “Christine?”

Without warning, she moved closer to him and removed his mask. His eyes widened in surprise and before he could make a sound… Christine crushed her lips to his. His eyes fluttered closed as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She straddled his legs, pressing herself closer as she gently cradled his face.

She pulled back after a moment to look into his dazed expression and softly grinned. “I love you Erik.”

It took him a second to register what she had just said, causing his heart to skip a beat. “You…”

“I love you Erik,” Christine repeated, her hand tenderly grazing his right side. Then she repeated the motions with her lips before claiming his mouth once more.

She _loved_ him. She loved _him_.

It was a flashing neon light in his brain, and he couldn’t believe it was true. But Christine was in his arms, kissing him, and he realized he hasn’t told her yet.

“I love you too Christine. I have loved you the moment you knocked me off my feet.” He leaned forward to kiss her, but she pulled back.

“Did you really?” she said archly.

“Well, you did take my breath away,” he rebuked.

She swatted him playfully and kissed him.

xXx

“Then what happened after?” Raoul asked.

“We had to put ourselves back together as people were coming in. We didn’t get a chance to talk until after rehearsals were done.”

“Did you tell him finally?”

“No. Before you say anything… I am on opening night.” Christine took a sip from her water bottle.

She had met up with Raoul the following day to go to the movies and then to a coffee house. Raoul had the coffee while she had a chilled bottle of water. He was eager to know how things were progressing between Christine and Erik. It may have not been the type of news he wanted to hear but saying “I love you” was still momentous.

“I told you he loved you,” Raoul said cheekily. “What did you two talked about then if not the baby?”

“Mainly our relationship. Erik wanted to tell me how he felt, but he wasn’t sure if it was too soon. I felt the same way too because… well, neither of us have had much experience being in long-term relationships. And none of us wanted to screw it up. It was an issue we didn’t realize we had until we talked it out. Then, Mom said something that made me realize too that my parents’ divorce was also present between us too. It’s more of my thing than Erik’s but at least I have come to terms with it.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have put that together. Way to go Mrs. D,” Raoul said.

She nodded in agreement. Once again, Catherine’s astuteness won the day. There had been lingering resentment after all and when Catherine explained what went wrong… Christine knew she owed her father an apology. After she and Erik had their heart-to-heart, Christine called her father and spoke with him. There were tears shared but above all… honesty. It had been the closest she had felt to her father since she was a child. She even told Charles about her pregnancy. She knew she wasn’t going to tell anyone until Erik knew, but it felt right to share that with him after she swore him to secrecy not to tell Meg until she did.

Charles promised and was overjoyed that he was going to be a grandfather. He had met Erik during the run for _The Delicate Prim_ and he instantly liked the man. Though, he was shocked that they weren’t dating at that point. Christine guessed she and Erik weren’t as subtle with their looks at each other when it had been nothing but an unrequited crush. Another shock was that Catherine hadn’t screamed she was going to have a grandbaby from the top of the Chrysler House building. Charles insisted he would fly out when the baby was born.

“That’s good. I always liked your father. Man, it feels good to get that out in the open now after all these years. So, what actually happened?”

“For one, my Dad never cheated on my Mom. That girl at the hospital who I thought was ‘the other woman’? She was from the same company that my Dad was working for at the time and she offered to drive him since he was worried about Mom’s surgery. That was it. And the reason no one said otherwise was that if he or she denied it… then it would seem like there was something going on. Plus, I know I wouldn’t have listened. I would have thought they were lying to spare my feelings. Dad said she took no offense to my accusations and understood that I was in an emotional state.”

“Then why the subterfuge?”

“Guilt. My Dad wasn’t in love with my Mom like he had been and even my Mom was beginning to have more platonic feelings. He felt bad since he was the first one to mention it and he was the one who filed for the divorce. He felt responsible for everything and since I had been so mad at him… Well, he felt that he deserved it. It was better to punish himself than not. And knowing how my parents fell in love and what ended up happening… I didn’t want that to be the same for me and Erik and our child. I guess not telling him would be like protecting the baby from being hurt down the road. Silly, huh?”

“Not at all. You were hurt and you didn’t want another to go through the same pain as you did. At least now you know that infidelity wasn’t the reason. That should make you feel good.”

“It does,” she admitted. “But at the same time, I feel like such an ass all these years. Dad told me he was never mad at me for feeling that way. I know I owe Meg an apology too since she tried telling me that it was no one’s fault.”

“Which you know she already forgives you.”

“I still want to say it and hear it from her.”

Christine tilted her head as she regarded her friend. His tan had faded since being back home, but he was looking a bit pale. Even when they were walking to the theater and then to the coffee house, he had sounded winded. He had shrugged it off saying he hadn’t been working out as much and was a tad out of shape. Raoul had never been a real muscular person or an exercise fanatic, but he stayed in relatively good-shaped due to his history with sports. Even after high school, Raoul would still run. Technically, it was still winter for Michigan, but that wouldn’t stop Raoul from running.

However, Raoul insisted he was fine and as he drank his coffee… the color was returning to his cheeks. Perhaps, she was overthinking it after not seeing him in a year.

“I should mention there was one other thing that Erik and I talked about.”

“Oh?” He perked up.

“You. Raoul, what exactly did happen when you and Erik met up that one night?”

Indeed, Raoul has taken it upon himself to drop by unannounced during rehearsals. It had been a couple times a week initially, but when word got out that he was a photographer and a close friend to the leading lady… Richard couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hire Raoul for his services to help with promotions. So now Raoul was there all the time for professional reasons much to Erik’s chagrin. Raoul’s photos did look phenomenal as Christine got a sneak peek at them.

But what got Erik’s goat was Raoul period. He still believed Raoul was in love with Christine. Raoul had no intention of telling Christine since it would be a breach of confidence in a private matter between the two men.

“It’s a simple misunderstanding. It’s nothing big.”

“If you say so but why can’t you tell me?”

“Did Erik?”

“No…”

“Then I’m not either. Don’t worry Little Lotte. It will work itself out.”

“I hope so. Because you two are very important to me.”

“And you are to us too.” _That is one thing Erik is correct about._

xXx

At long last, opening night for _Il Muto_ had arrived. The Opera Populaire was in full swing of the glitz and glamor.

The anticipation and adrenaline were coursing through Christine’s veins as she sung her arias and engaged in her character’s hijinks. The audience was roaring with laughter at the comedic bits and gave a rousing applause at the end of each song. Then at the very end of the show, the performers earned a standing ovation, with the audience slightly increasing their volume when Christine gave her bow.

Another success for Erik Campbell and company.

Christine’s countenance was flushed with excitement and she scarcely could capture her breath as she sat in her dressing room as her wig and make-up was being removed. She couldn’t wait to see Erik as her hand stole across her belly.

Tonight, she was telling him. She no longer felt uncertain or worried. Her earlier misgivings had been all in her mind and her feelings about her parents’ divorce was now put to rest. She felt confident that she and Erik could tackle anything, and her love for him was stronger more than ever. It didn’t matter how quickly they came together… this was their story.

Christine was alone in her dressing now as she removed her costume and put on her chosen outfit for the evening. She had told Erik before the show started, she wanted to see him in her room afterwards. She had a feeling he was probably being held up by the producers and anyone else who wished to congratulate him for a brilliant performance.

She kept moving about the room, trying to decide where she should be when she told him. Should she sit down? Should she have him sit? Yes… he should be the one to sit. Or maybe she can sit next to him. Yes, yes. That was better.

Christine finally settled on leaning against the vanity’s counter so she could see Erik as he walked in. She heard a knock and with her heart pounding… she told him to enter.

“Never thought disappointment on your face would hurt this much. Ouch.”

“Raoul!” Christine said, shaking her head. “I’m always happy to see you but I’m waiting for Erik.”

“Damn. I thought you would have told him by now. I waited this long. I almost rushed through the door to be the first one to offer congratulations.”

“You’re a dork but I appreciate the enthusiasm.” She held up her arms. “Since you’re here… Give me my flowers.”

Raoul had a generous bouquet of flowers in his hands, a mixed array of pink and yellow roses and baby’s breath. He laughed at her childish voice and moved closer to present them. “You were incredible,” he said. “I know I give you a hard time about this… but tonight you sang as if you were taught by the Angel of Music.”

She blushed. “Thank you, Raoul. I guess all that screeching did pay off.”

“Never had a single doubt.” He tapped her nose affectionately, then frowned. “I feel like something is missing.”

“What do you mean?”

“This.” Raoul plucked a pink rose from the arrangement and very carefully stuck the bloom into her hair. “Beautiful. Motherhood really becomes you. I cannot wait to meet this little one.”

Something shattered.

Christine and Raoul whipped their heads around to the door where Erik stood. What had been two glasses of champagne… now shattered to pieces on the tile floor at his feet. One hand was braced against the door while the other was fisted at his side. His chest was moving rapidly as a feral look glazed over his eyes.

There was no time to react when Erik suddenly launched at Raoul, his fist raising as he punched the young man across the jaw.

Christine shouted but the blood was roaring in Erik’s ears and he could hear nothing else other than what he had heard Raoul uttering just seconds ago.

_Motherhood… Little one… The bastard!_

Raoul managed to get his arms up to block the second blow and began fighting to get Erik off him, but the other man’s strength was making it impossible for Raoul to find an out.

Then… it was over.

Christine had grabbed Erik’s arm before he could throw another punch, throwing him off-balance as she yanked him back from Raoul. She was still gripping Erik’s arm as she stood between the two, giving Raoul the chance to get to his feet. Raoul hadn’t realized he had been flattened on the ground until Christine intervened.

“Enough!” she cried, staring into Erik’s wild expression. “What the Hell Erik?”

Raoul stumbled over to the wall of the room, putting several feet between himself and the masked man. He was still somewhat dazed from the hit as he rubbed his jaw and saw the blood on his hand from his busted lip. There was no other damage from what he could tell.

Meanwhile, Christine was demanding Erik to calm down. Raoul glanced over and flinched when Erik pointed at him.

“You!” Erik growled. “I told you to stay away from her! And—and you got _her_ pregnant!”

“No, he didn’t Erik.”

“YES! I heard him! He said he couldn’t wait to meet the little one! Don’t deny it Christine!”

“I’m not—”

“I can’t believe this! I thought… I thought you loved me. I thought _this_ didn’t mean anything.” Erik now waved a trembling finger at his mask. “I knew he loved you. But I didn’t think… I thought you chose me.” The anger was starting to flee his body as anguish took its place. “I thought you chose me.”

“Erik, I love you but you’re being an idiot right now.”

He looked at her dumbly. “But…”

“Yes, I am pregnant, but Raoul is not the father. You are.” Not exactly how Christine had hoped for this to go, but she waited quietly as the words sank in for Erik. His face took on an interesting color as he motioned between them.

“I… father… what…” Erik choked.

“Uh-huh. You, father of this baby. It would be impossible for Raoul to be the father since he’s gay.”

A pin could have dropped from the deafening silence of that revelation. Erik raised his eyes to Raoul who was wincing through his smile.

“I told you, you had nothing to worry from me,” he said.

“He’s… you’re…” Erik was fishing for words that couldn’t seem to come. “How?”

“I think you know _how_ ,” she retorted. “But the other answer to that question is that you’re the only man I’m dating, that I’m sleeping with, and that I’m in love with. Raoul is _my_ best friend. How could you think I would be with anyone else?”

“But… you _dated_ him.”

She harrumphed. “Yeah, for a couple weeks in _middle school_. That’s when Raoul realized he likes boys. Kind of a romantic relationship breaker.”

“M-middle school?” Erik stuttered. _Oh my God…_

“You really thought Raoul and I were hooking up behind your back?” Christine glared. Then she turned her glare on Raoul. “Why didn’t you tell him you weren’t interested in women?”

“I don’t know. I thought it was obvious.”

“Men,” Christine muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Putting this insanity _aside_ , I know having a baby is sudden, but I hope you will be happy.” Having a smile return to her face, Christine took Erik’s hands and laid them on her belly. “I know I am.”

“We’re having a baby,” Erik said softly. Slowly, he began to smile.

TBC…


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! I’m glad everyone liked that little twist in last chapter about Raoul. There were a couple of you who picked up on those subtle clues, but there is still a couple more twists up my sleeves. Hee hee. Thank you again for all of you are who reading this story! Now, let’s return to the plot…

**Chapter 14**

_Present Time_

“…All my worries were for naught when he learned about the baby. Of course, Erik was in a state of shock with all the new revelations from that night. But we did talk about it at his apartment and what the future is going to be like.”

She stopped as Erik looked like he was in a similar state of shock. She couldn’t help but laugh as she gently patted his hand. “Anyone home?” she jokingly asked.

Erik shook his head. “He… was a homosexual?”

“Yes. Although, Raoul preferred the word ‘gay.’ Suffice to say, Erik was very apologetic after he had attacked Raoul. Thankfully, Raoul always found the humor in anything and said he would have done the same if he misunderstood the situation if Erik had been with one of his boyfriends. Anyways, my husband and Raoul became the best of friends after that.”

“…I see…” Erik was still wrapping his mind over the titillating information. While these worlds seemed familiar yet different… Erik wondered if the Vicomte might be the same as the Raoul from this time. If so… then Erik wouldn’t have a rival for Christine’s affections. He could still win her hand!

The rooftop. The kiss. It had been born of a romantic love. As quickly as the hope flared in his chest, the quicker it burned out that the Vicomte could not have been _that_ good of an actor to pretend love for Christine. His expression turned sour after that.

“Did you and your Erik marry afterwards?”

Christine knew none of it seemed to ring a bell for him. Sighing, she said no. “Oh, he proposed. It was after we talked about the baby. Granted, Erik wasn’t expecting children this soon in the stage of our relationship. But he warmed up to the idea and said we might as well get married now.” She pursed her lips together as she tried to hold back her amusement. “I was a little miffed and astonished. I told him that if he’s going to propose, then I wanted the whole nine yards. It needed to be romantic, and he should be on one knee and with a ring. And his proposal had been none of those things… not even the knee. The moment wasn’t right, and Erik saw that. So, he promised the next time he proposed… it will exceed my wishes and dreams. I knew then I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. But Erik didn’t need to know that right at that moment or I would have been deprived of my proper proposal!”

“You are saying if he threw caution to the wind and proposed once more… you would have accepted?”

“Probably. But it was well worth the wait,” she said wistfully. “Are you starting to see why the name is special?”

He nodded. “Raoul is your dearest friend and apparently mine— _his_ —and you named your firstborn for him. He must have been thrilled at the honor.”

“Yes and no,” she answered quietly, but he didn’t hear her. “It’s getting late. We should get some sleep.”

Erik found himself yawning and had to assent. He had been learning so much in such a short timeframe and felt he was now getting a good picture of his counterpart’s history. However, he still felt profoundly confused on why this Erik would be cheating on Christine. He had no proof, and it was all circumstantial from Cara’s behavior. Nevertheless, everything Christine has told him about this Erik’s face and his childhood was a very private and intimate affair. It wasn’t something her husband would easily share with anyone, and he doubted a mistress would persuade him.

Unless this Erik fell out of love with his wife.

The mere thought brought an icy chill to his blood. He could _never_ imagine falling out of love with Christine. He knew he would love his Angel until his dying breath, and even then, into eternity. It would be a cruel fate, indeed, if Christine’s fears from her parents’ divorce had seeped into her own marriage.

But he didn’t feel like that was the case. He couldn’t explain it, but he _felt_ that this Erik loved his wife.

Then, perhaps, an ill-begotten decision? A poor lapse in judgment?

Fatigue was taking its toll and it wasn’t long until he fell into a deep slumber.

Christine could sense Erik falling asleep, and without making a sound, she crept out of the room and over to the boys’ bedroom. She opened the door just a crack so she could peer inside.

In the darkness, she could make out Gus’s shape as he turned over. Then she looked over at Raoul. Tears began to prick her eyes as bittersweet memories swarmed before her. There was more to the story than she had told Erik, but she couldn’t say the words out loud… Not yet.

The door made a soft snick as she closed it and she made her way back down the hallway. She checked on Lotte and then the baby before she returned to her room.

The memories of the past continued to sway her as her head hit the pillow. She bit down on the material to muffle her tears.

Ten minutes later she was fast asleep.

xxXXxx

The next couple days flew by. Erik continued his role as the director and was quite pleased with the progression of _Don Juan_. He was also becoming quite adept with his position, knowing this was what he was meant to do. It was quite refreshing for his orders to be followed without question. At least here he didn’t have to resort with threatening notes or parlor tricks on the cast or stagehands.

In fact, everyone pulled his or her own weight in the production. Criticism was met to improve and if there was a dispute… then it was dealt with promptly. And Erik was respected. Truly respected. He had never felt that before by _anyone_. As for his mask, the people here were used to it. They addressed him with direct eye contact, even those who would get tongue-tied around him. That would usually be the interns, but he was finding himself growing used to their stammering and flustering. Christine told him they wanted to impress him, and it was a nice ego stroke. He could appreciate why his counterpart had hired them on.

The performers were indeed talented as they continued to work through Act I and the beginning of Act II. They had not reached the end of Act II yet, which Erik himself had not learned the end of the opera. Not only that, he also didn’t know who was going to star in the leading role.

He tried to find out by going through Erik Campbell’s notes and files. Christine showed him how to use the computer in his office, which the invention was remarkable but frustrating since he had a habit of clicking the wrong button or causing the image on the screen to freeze. But Erik was a stubborn student, and he was adamant he was going to learn how to use it properly.

Christine was, of course, a big help while learning how Erik Campbell managed the opera house. She did take some of the responsibilities on herself, so he didn’t have to worry about it. She knew exactly how her husband did things and what he expected, so that wasn’t an issue. Besides, it wasn’t the first time she helped her husband out. She had shared an amusing anecdote when her husband had lost his voice. Apparently, he had screamed himself hoarse and it took several weeks for him to regain his normal voice only then to be stricken with strep throat from one of the children.

Erik Campbell wasn’t known to ask for help, but he had to learn that help can be a good thing.

“He was being a grouch during the whole time he was sick. It wasn’t until the twins started calling him Oscar that he stopped.”

Erik had been confused by that until Christine showed him what she meant. As soon as he saw the green puppet in the trash can, then he understood. He wouldn’t want to be compared to that either, and therefore, was grateful for Christine’s assistance in showing him this Erik’s process.

But it was surprising that he had left out who was going to be the star in his production notes. Even Christine tried searching for it.

“When he said it was a secret, he wasn’t kidding,” she commented. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or put out that I can’t figure it out.”

Erik Campbell had a lot of files password protected and Christine was able to unlock almost all of them. There were a couple that none of his passwords would work, and all she could do was stare holes into the computer.

“I love you but damn your paranoia,” she mumbled under her breath as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

Erik had to admit he was mesmerized by the way Christine could command the device to do what needed to be done. He had to chuckle when he heard her comment.

“I guess he hadn’t planned on something like this ever happening.”

“Touché. Although, it would be nice if he could trust his wife on this too. Well, Erik did like to be mysterious, and this was his way.” She blew a wayward curl out of her face. “I hope you do figure it out since I’m not going to be able to. But if we have too… Blaine can do it.”

Blaine was a decent stand-in but for opening night? Erik would rather do it himself than let that boy be Don Juan.

_That might not be a bad idea…_ Erik knew Piangi would be the one in the role in his time, and while Piangi wasn’t ultimately Erik’s first choice… he knew the Spaniard would excel. At least he could sing unlike La Carlotta. But if Erik were to take the role, he would be putting him on display, exposing himself as the Phantom.

_But here I’m not the Opera Ghost. I’m only Erik Campbell. There would be no danger._

The idea was becoming promising the more he thought about it. Who knew the character inside and out? And it would be _he_ singing alongside Christine. His voice and his Angel’s intertwining in the passionate seductive dance of “Past the Point of No Return.” Indeed, he had composed the duet when he realized his feelings for his ingénue were no longer innocent. Lust and a burning desire compelled him in his score, and he had often fantasized performing this with Christine. In his fantasy, she would come to the realization that her Angel—this man—wanted _her_ and she would realize she wanted him too and she would welcome him in her arms, so he could at last have a taste of the forbidden fruit…

He looked over at Christine who was lost in her task with some paperwork and was about to tell her his proposal for Don Juan when Willow knocked on the door.

“Uh, Mrs. Campbell?”

Christine lifted her eyes to her. “What’s up Willow?”

“Wardrobe needs you. Raven is getting the final fittings done.”

“Right. I forgot that’s today.” She set her pen down to the piles of papers and turned to Erik. “I will be back as soon as I can.”

He nodded and watched as Christine walked out with the intern. Taking a deep breath, he would have to tell her later. But now he was alone… he could do some digging that was not related to the opera.

Returning to the computer, Erik was curious as to why this Erik would secure certain files from his wife’s eyes. Could this be the evidence he needed about this Erik’s secret?

They needed a password and while Christine knew what they were by heart… she didn’t know what would unlock those specific files. She had mentioned something about him writing it down. She looked through the drawers but was unable to find whatever it was she was searching for. Christine was unsuccessful but maybe Erik might have better luck.

He double-clicked one document and a tiny window popped up asking him to enter the password to open file. It would have to be something important to Campbell that he wouldn’t forget. It wasn’t Christine’s name, and it wasn’t the children’s either. Christine mentioned his high school teacher played a major role in his life, and Erik tried Garnier. When that didn’t work, he added “Mr.” to the beginning, but that didn’t take.

Leaning back in his seat, Erik rotated the chair so he could look around the office. What might inspire Campbell to create this specific password?

Erik knew if such things existed in his time, he would pick something from his past that people were unfamiliar with. Like a word in Farsi.

But Christine said they had never traveled the Middle East. Perhaps, she and Campbell hadn’t together, but before he met her… it is possible he could have. Erik did notice that in her stories about her and her husband that Campbell did keep some things about his past to himself. He could have just as well never told her about his travels to the Middle East. Erik was very selective in his own sharing of his time spent in the rosy hours of Mazanderan. Maybe Campbell was wary as well.

Erik began typing in some basic Persian words. When those didn’t yield any results, Erik started to type in Persian that was more personal to him. It was a long shot if it would have any connection to his own past, but he had nothing to lose.

First, he tried those of a dark, personal nature. _Angel of Doom_ , _Punjab, magician, demon_ , _monster_ , _death_. None worked. Erik felt more relief than he cared to think he would.

He tapped his chin as he stared at the screen, and somewhere in the back recesses of his mind, he heard a whisper, _musikens ängel_ , in Swedish. _Of course! Angel of Music_. It was odd that Campbell chose Swedish over English, but as far as Erik knew, this Christine did not speak Swedish.

Clever.

The words appeared on the screen and Erik discovered this must be a new opera that Campbell had started. It was all very rudimentary with possible character names and backgrounds as well as a synopsis and music themes. Campbell had taken Christine’s favorite childhood story and was adapting it into a full-fledge opera. At the top, Campbell had dedicated this to his Angel of Music and family.

Even though Campbell was amid a rough draft, Erik had hummed some of the notes and was instantly taken with the love that could be felt. Campbell was still besotted by his Christine and this did not strike Erik as someone who had fallen out of love. Rather, it was creating something born from that love. He knew doubting seemed foolish after reviewing this document, but Erik could not forget Cara’s forwardness or the brazen way she spoke to him.

Something was still missing.

He closed the file and continued to explore what else Campbell had stored. Erik had to commend Campbell’s organizational skills. Everything seemed to have a place from the various departments in the opera house to the music to the research for the operas and the…

_How strange._

Erik had almost missed it but there was a folder that was not labelled. It was stuck among all the other folders that it easily blended in if someone was doing a quick glance over.

_Why would this one be missing?_ Erik double-clicked it to open, and it was password protected. Angel of Music didn’t work on this, but what kind of password would Campbell use on something he wants hidden?

The voice again almost sounded reluctant, but the word was appearing before Erik’s mind’s eye. This time the password was in Persian and it was _shadows_.

The folder revealed to have a dozen or so files and they were all listed by dates. Christine wasn’t back yet so he figured he would have a few more minutes to himself. He decided to open the most recent file and began reading through it.

He jerked back in his seat; his eyes widened in shock. _No, no. This cannot be!_

He closed the file and opened the next one. Then the next. Finally, he skipped the rest to the very earliest date, which was about eight months ago. It would have been around the time Christine gave birth to the youngest Campbell.

**From:** Carlotta Guerra <carlotta.guerra@operapopulaire.org>

 **To:** Erik Campbell <erik.campbell@operapopluaire.org>

 **Sent:** Tuesday, April 21, 2020, 10:47:20 PM EDT

 **Subject:** Thank you for this opportunity

_Erik,_

_Congratulations on your newest arrival! I’m sure you and Christine are going to have your hands full for a while. I also wanted to thank you for letting me step in as the lead while Christine is on maternity leave. This is an honor and I promise I will not fail you. To show you my gratitude, I would love it if I could take you out for dinner. It’s the least I can do. And I promise you… I will not take no for an answer. ; )_

_Cara G._

This was a fairly benign composition unlike the other two documents. All Erik knew was that Campbell had taken Cara up on her offer. Closing it, Erik opened the first one again.

**From:** Carlotta Guerra <spanishdiva34@gmail.com>

 **To:** Erik Campbell <e.campbell@gmail.com>

 **Sent:** Saturday, December 5, 2020, 11:25:08 PM EDT

 **Subject:** <no subject>

_Mi guapo amante,_

_I cannot stop thinking about you. Meet me tomorrow night. I am aching to be with you._

_C._

This was sent only six days ago, and it has been four days when Erik found himself in this world. It was too much of a coincidence to think, but at the same time, he had his proof of Campbell’s despicable indiscretion.

He felt the rage building within, but something wasn’t adding up. How could Campbell do this to Christine and still be able to write music for her? True, Erik had seen more than his fair share of clandestine affairs being conducted in the opera house. Many a wealthy patron would confess love for their wives but wouldn’t hesitate to sate their desires with a willing mistress. Those men did not see it as cheating since they did not love their mistresses.

Is that how Campbell was able to justify this? That his love for Christine was different than whatever feelings he felt towards Cara?

Yet it felt contradictory with everything he has learned about Campbell’s and Christine’s relationship.

Furthermore, Erik did feel a kinship with Campbell the more he learned about him. There were some vast differences with their upbringings and life experiences, but both struggled with adversity from their faces and the masks they had to wear. They both found their Christine Daaés and had rivals for her affections. Although, Campbell’s rival had been unfounded… the similarities were uncanny. Erik knew the depths of his love for Christine was eternal and nothing could change that.

If Erik felt that… surely Campbell did too?

_He is the one who has been unfaithful. This folder proves that. I should tell Christine that the man she is hoping will return is the not the man she knew._

But something was holding Erik back from running to get her and show her all that he found.

For one, all the files contained messages written by Cara and none contained Campbell’s replies. She could easily be trying to entice or tempt him in the hopes she might wear him down if she pressed her advances. That is… if the assumption was Campbell showed no interest.

Though why keep these in a locked folder?

His mind was quickly made up as Christine returned from her fitting.

“Any luck with those files?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Erik said, showing her the desktop background with all the folders and nothing opened.

“Darn. I will keep thinking. Sometimes the oddest things will inspire him and that’s probably what happened there with those passwords. Ready to go home?”

_Home_. The word indeed was becoming one of Erik’s favorites as he grinned. While Christine locked up the office, Erik knew he was taking a risk in not sharing with her his findings. Whether it was intuition or not, Erik knew he made the right call.

For now.

xxXXxx

The weekend arrived and the Campbell household managed to get some extra z’s before greeting the day.

Little did Erik know that Christine had made some plans.

As they sat down for breakfast with Erik sans mask, Christine announced, “I’m taking the girls and meeting up with my mother to finish our Christmas shopping. You, boys, will have the house to yourselves.”

Erik felt an icy grip on his heart. Boys… That meant him, Gus, and… Raoul.

Alone. In the house.

Gus looked thrilled and Raoul… looked like he would rather face the torture chamber instead.

_The feeling is mutual_ , Erik thought glumly.

“This is also the perfect time for you to work on that science project of yours Raoul. Erik, could you help with that? It’s not anything too wild or extreme.”

Ah, right… the science project. He had blissfully forgotten that detail.

“I bought the supplies you need already. They’re in the study. And Raoul has the directions in his backpack. All I ask is that you use those marshmallows for the experiment and save the snacking for later. Erik, you better watch they don’t eat too many or they won’t be hungry for dinner. That should cover it. I will have my cell phone with me for emergencies. Oh!” Christine jumped up from her seat and disappeared for a few minutes. She returned with a plastic card and handed it to Erik. “This is for lunch if the boys want fast food. It can be delivered so you don’t have to worry about driving. Raoul and Gus can show you how to set it up. They can order only one kid’s meal each. Don’t let them fool you about needing to buy more. I will be checking the charge to make sure it’s reasonable.” She turned her eyes to the boys who were looking away sheepishly.

“Mom, we only did it once!” Raoul exclaimed, then quietly adding, “And we didn’t think you would be home early.”

At Erik’s quizzical expression, Christine explained, “These two thought they would be sneaky and order a bunch of kid meals to get whatever toy was served with it. Mom had been babysitting and didn’t realize they took our credit card from her, so they ordered a bunch of meals to be delivered. They thought they could intercept the delivery before Mom knew or before Erik and I came home. Caught red-handed as we pulled in when the delivery driver was handing over the bags.”

“I told you wouldn’t get away with it,” Lotte snorted.

“Yeah, young lady, you could have told your grandmother when you found them ordering. You may not have been an active participant, but you were still an accessory to their scheme,” Christine said.

Lotte blushed. “I know.”

“There was a lot of grounding and taken away privileges that day. Poor Mom was so embarrassed.”

“But look at it this way, Mom. If Raoul were ever in trouble, he could pickpocket the person without them knowing! It could be a good life skill,” Gus said. “Only if it was life or death.”

“I still don’t know how you learned that. But that had been the only time and it will _be_ the only time.” She had that tone that only mothers can use to mean business and if it were contradicted… there would be trouble for them.

Once breakfast was done and the dishes cleared away, Christine had the girls bundled up just as Catherine pulled into the driveway and honked the horn to let them know she was there. Lotte took the baby out to get buckled in as Christine went over the final details with Erik.

“You got this. If you need something, then you have my cell phone to call.”

Erik nodded. He had memorized it with ease, but the only thing that was unnerving was being left alone with the children. Even though it was only two, he still could not believe the Opera Ghost was babysitting.

“They are good. But just in case they feel the temptation, if it sounds too good to be true, then it isn’t.” Christine slung her purse over her shoulder and had the diaper bag in her other hand. She bit her lip as she looked at Erik and her eyes briefly drifted to his mouth.

He sensed this would be the time she would kiss her husband good-bye, but he wasn’t her husband. There was that bitter reminder of what was not his. Oh, if only he could have just one taste…

She settled on a hug, squeezing him gently. “Please get along,” she whispered in his ear. He didn’t have to be told to whom she was referring to.

Christine called the boys over and she gave each a hug and a kiss. “I know things have been strange and we all had to make do, but I am counting on you both. Don’t make this any harder. Got it?”

The chorus of “Yes, Mom” echoed and she smiled. Christine gave Erik another fleeting look and she was gone.

The boys looked up at him and Erik took a deep breath. “Very well. Science project it is.”

xxXXxx

He easily found the supplies where Christine left them. There wasn’t much time for him to explore the house since the children kept them busy after rehearsals. The study was a combination of a library and music room as Erik longingly eyed the grand piano. But he promised Christine he would help Raoul, and alas, that had to come first. He brought the two bags into the kitchen where Raoul had the directions for his project out. Gus was sitting opposite of his brother and was eagerly bouncing in his seat.

Once Erik placed the bags down, Gus reached out and began dumping the items out. One bag contained miniature marshmallows and a cellophane bag of Styrofoam plates and the other bag was two packages of 100 craft sticks.

Erik arched his visible brow and wondered what in the world would have a project with these items?

“Gus, can you get the ruler and a couple of pencils? I’ll get the books,” Raoul said.

“Books? For what?” Erik asked.

“It’s to set up an earthquake,” the boy explained.

_An earthquake? I fail to see how this is going to work_. While the boys left to get the rest of the items, Erik looked at the directions. Indeed, the instructions were quite simple, and he supposed these materials could make a structure of sorts. He had to bite back a smirk. _If the daroga saw me now! He would truly think I was domesticated._

The boys returned with their objects and scattered them on the table with the rest. Erik decided it would be best if he oversaw the project and let the boys follow the steps. He did assist in opening the bag of marshmallows and plates. Sitting down, he watched as they each took a plate, turned it upside down, and poke four holes in it with the pencils.

From there, they took a craft stick and jammed the end into a marshmallow. Then the stick was pushed into the hole on the plate with the marshmallow holding it in place and standing upright. They repeated this step three more times until each hole was filled with the marshmallow and upstanding wooden stick.

The directions said they could build their structure with as many sticks as they wanted. Raoul used four more sticks to connect to the ones already in place, so it formed a square shape. Gus added another level and managed to make a triangular roof with his. Erik had to commend the young boy’s ability to keep everything aligned, straight, and firm. Raoul frowned, but didn’t say anything, as he set aside his building and handed several sticks to Erik.

“They need to be at least 1 cm. Could you break it for me?”

“What for?”

“I need to have one stable building and one unstable one,” Raoul explained. “I’m not really good at measuring or making a clean break.” He imperceptibly glanced at his hand. Raoul was no longer wearing the bandage and his injuries were healing nicely. There were only traces of scratches left on his skin. In fact, Erik could see no reason why Raoul couldn’t do it himself.

There was a snap, and both looked up as Gus was happily measuring his wooden sticks and cutting them down to the length he needed.

“If Gus can do it, then you can too,” Erik told the older boy. “Follow his lead.”

Raoul watched his younger brother and sighed. Taking the ruler, he measured 1 cm and used the pencil to mark it on the stick where the cut needs to be done. So far, Raoul was taking the necessary steps, which Erik noted. But the breaking proved to be another story. He either went above the line or below it and some of them had jagged ends rather than a straight edge. Even when Raoul got up to get a pair of scissors to use instead, he still struggled in making the perfect 1 cm sticks.

Frustration flickered in his blue eyes and his brows pinched together as Gus was putting the final touches on his second structure.

“I’m going to try this out in the family room!” Gus stated. He had to take two trips with first taking his two buildings, and then came back to get the four books.

Erik and Raoul were now alone.

Raoul did manage to put together his second structure as lopsided as it was, but at least it stood. He then took two books and placed them side-by-side and the other two books on top. He took the more stable structure and set it between the books. Raoul lowered his head so he could be eye-level with the setup to make sure it was centered and even. Satisfied, Raoul handed Erik his cell phone.

“Why are you giving that to me? I don’t need to call your mother,” Erik said.

The boy exhaled in annoyance. “I need you to film this for me.”

“Why can’t you do that?”

“I have to push these books to simulate the earthquake. Look. It’s not complicated. Hold the phone so the camera faces the experiment and hit the little red button for it to record. Try not to move the phone around. Keep it still as possible.”

Easy for the boy to say as Erik stared at the device in his hands now. All he had to do was hold it up and press the red button. Okay, he can do that. Erik nodded to Raoul so he could start. 

Placing a hand on either pile, Raoul began to push them back and forth.

The structure trembled from the movements but remained intact. Then he increased his movements by making the books collide together. The sticks swayed more, and the plate was moving, but it still stayed as one. Raoul then pulled the books apart bit by bit as the plate stayed on one pile. As soon as the distance widened, the plate toppled over but the wooden sticks and marshmallows stayed together.

“Okay, hit the button again to stop recording. I need to write this down.”

Bemused, Erik sat there quietly as Raoul grabbed his notebook and began scribbling his observations. In the other room, Gus was whooping as his building fell. _Well, at least one of us is having fun_ , Erik thought.

Raoul set the books back up and placed his unstable building in the center. The sticks were already swaying, and before Raoul could start shaking the books, the top part of the building had caved in. He let out a growl as he tried to put the sticks and marshmallows back together. Then one of the sticks came out of the plate altogether. Raoul grabbed a new marshmallow and stuck it in the stick and shoved it in the plate.

Finally, it was standing, and Raoul told Erik to get the camera ready to film. He repeated the same motions as before. Except this time, the structure kept coming undone. Raoul would fix it and then try again… only for it to keep falling apart.

He wrote what happened. Then he asked Erik for the cell phone back.

As Raoul went to play it back, his face turned red. “You recorded yourself! Not my experiment!”

“No, I didn’t,” Erik said. “I did exactly what you told me. If it didn’t turn out the way you wanted, then you should have been clearer. Or have Gus do it instead.”

“Look!” Raoul played the video back and it was filming Erik’s facial expressions. Well, his visible side. The mask simply appeared stoic. “You must have brushed against the camera mode to selfie. How could you not have known it wasn’t doing it right?”

Erik glowered. “Do I look like I am familiar with this technology, _boy_?”

“I have to do it all over again! You could have said something!”

“You were the one who said this wasn’t complicated.”

Raoul snarled. “It _isn’t_! You made it complicated. All you had to do was help me, but now I have more work to do!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me!” Erik shouted, standing up and slamming his fist on the table. The materials on the table shook from the force and even Raoul jumped at Erik’s tone. Erik half-expected to find tears or fear; instead, Raoul resolutely stared hard at him. “Redoing this experiment will not take that much of your precious time. You already written down whatever it was, so have Gus film you doing it again.”

“But my notes are not going to match up the second time!”

“Then rewrite them. It’s not a big deal.”

“Is everything okay?” Gus was in the kitchen, looking at Erik and his brother, a worried expression on his face.

“Gus, your brother requires your assistance in the filming of the experiment. I am going to the study. I trust you two will stay out of trouble. When you’re hungry, come and get me.”

With that said, Erik left the kitchen and made his way back to the study where the piano beckoned him. It didn’t take him long to dive into a fitful rendition of Beethoven’s seventh symphony. He poured his emotions into the music, closing his eyes, savoring the familiar and comforting embrace of this adoring mistress.

This was sanctuary. This was bliss. Here… he could escape.

However, his mind kept replaying the scene from moments ago, and Christine’s voice echoing: _Raoul has your passionate temper. Emotions first, logic second_.

He struck a wrong note and breathed deeply. As much as he loathed to admit, this child did possess his temperament. And it bothered him. There wasn’t a trace of himself he could find in the boy’s features unlike the other children, and yet he did see the uncanny defiance that Erik had in his youth. It was the same look when facing the Shah and Khanum in Mazanderan.

_It is impossible. He is the Vicomte I’m sure of it_. Yet even the argument was starting to weaken.

Maybe it was partly because of Christine’s drilling reminder that he was a child. Or perhaps as he was becoming more accepting of this world that he was starting to see the resemblance, instead of blindly seeing what he wanted to see… That the boy wasn’t connected to the Vicomte after all. 

It was all too easy to hang on to his hatred for his rival. As time passed, Erik could feel it slipping through him. But part of him could not let it go entirely. If— _no, when_ —he returned he would have to confront the Vicomte and fight to win Christine’s heart once more.

But did he want to go back?

Here… Christine loved him. She _married_ him. They have a family. He was _accepted_. He was _respected_. There was no hate, no fear, no Opera Ghost.

Erik paused as he realized he was inserting _himself_ in the narrative and not Campbell. While one could argue that the two were not so different, he couldn’t help but feel that Campbell wasn’t as deserving of this life than he had believed. Campbell didn’t suffer the way Erik did, never experienced the humiliation that Erik had to endure. Campbell didn’t have to fight to keep what was his. Campbell didn’t have the same abiding love for Christine. If he had, then he wouldn’t think twice about straying or allowing the temptation to exist.

To put it bluntly: Campbell _didn’t_ deserve this life, this love, this family.

Did Erik?

He never believed he was worthy or deserving of anything. He couldn’t take anything for granted, but he knew the value and how precious a gift this family was. He _knew_ how to cherish Christine. He _knew_ how blessed the children were not to inherit his defects. He _knew_.

Campbell clearly didn’t know. 

He continued to play. This time he switched to a softer melody. The music wove its calming presence around him as his frustration, anger, and annoyance ebbed away. And Erik was beginning to see the benefits if he and Campbell never switch places. He could still have his music, his Christine, his love, and even the children.

Yet, this experience revealed how truly inadequate Erik was as a father.

Fatherhood had never been an option for him. Then again, what woman would even give him a chance? Nevertheless, the only father figure he could call upon was Giovanni and Erik had seen the devastating consequence of doting too much on a child. Of course, there was the daroga and Reza… Indeed, his friend, the Persian, was a kindly father up until Erik took upon it himself to make the tough choice that Nadir had been unwilling to make for the boy’s ill health.

In both instances, Erik was witness and participant in both men’s offspring’s demise. Not that he had actively seek or intended to do those things. With Reza… it had been mercy. Luciana was a tragedy. 

And here he was suddenly thrust into the role as father wholly unprepared. What did he know about child-rearing? If anything, the incident with Raoul proved how inept he was when dealing with a child. 

Why, oh why did Christine leave him on his own? If this was a test, then he failed miserably. She should have known he couldn’t do this. 

Yet…

Part of him knew he should go back out there. Apologize and help again, but this time, be more diligent. It was that strange feeling that was gaining speed and volume that Erik stopped playing.

Perhaps, he could do this after all. All he had to do was get up and leave the room and join the boys.

He _wanted_ to be there.

But he wavered. What if he made more of a mess than before? Maybe he was doing them _both_ a favor and staying where he was. 

It was close to noon when Gus tentatively knocked on the door, informing Erik that he and Raoul were getting hungry.

_Lunch. Right._

He rose from the piano bench and followed Gus so they could order their meals.

The rest of the afternoon had been one of the longest of his life. Ordering lunch was not as much of an ordeal than he thought it would be. The boys heeded Christine’s warnings about only ordering one kid’s meal each, and Gus pointed out what Campbell usually ordered.

Erik decided he would go with it since he had no idea about anything else with the menu. Twenty minutes later the food was delivered, and they ate their meals quietly. Erik noticed the experiment had been put away and Gus told him that he and Raoul finished it earlier.

The latter refused to look or acknowledge Erik. He was still upset, and Erik saw no point in trying to speak to him. It was becoming clearer how he and Raoul were not much different. Erik knew from experience it was best to wait until he calmed, then speak rationally.

After lunch, Raoul turned the TV on to some cartoon. Gus wanted to show Erik what he had been working on with his music. In his bedroom, Gus performed a song he had been composing with his keyboard. Erik could not hold back his beaming pride at what he had accomplished. There were a couple tweaks that was needed, which Erik pointed out, and when Gus played the edited version, his eyes lit up with triumph.

Now this was a scene that was familiar to Erik. He and Gus spent an hour working on the boy’s music. They switched places where Erik played on the keyboard, and Gus grabbed his flute. Indeed, Erik found this part of being a father to be enjoyable as they engaged in their love of music. At least there was no complications.

Eventually, Gus suggested they should head back downstairs to spend time with Raoul.

“He should be all right now.”

Erik’s good feelings faltered. So, Gus knew what Raoul needed and this had been a ruse to give his brother space. He had to commend the eight-year-old, but Erik wasn’t sure what to say or do when he saw Raoul. 

Gus must have seen the conflict in Erik, and he took hold of his hand and squeezed it with reassurance. “Just be Dad.”

Erik had to retain his scoff. “That is something I am not sure I can be.”

“Yes, you can. You were now with me and my music. You can do the same for Raoul.”

Gus was full of optimism. He had complete confidence in Erik, which Erik was running low on. He didn’t know how much longer Christine and the girls were going to be gone, and if he doesn’t patch things up… he had a feeling it would only get worse.

Erik found Raoul where he last left him. Sitting on the couch and watching TV shows. It was a different cartoon this time with five superheroes and they were teasing one of the members about his baby hands. Raoul chortled at what must have been a joke. Gus had left the room to give them some time alone.

It was now or never, Erik mused.

Sitting down beside him, Erik tried to follow the show. “What is this?” he asked, keeping his tone interested.

“What are you doing?” Raoul said curtly. “Trying to make up for messing my project up? You can forget it. I want to be left alone.”

This would have been the out that Erik would have looked for, and he would have happily taken it. Yet, Erik remained rooted in his spot. “Look, I am sorry about earlier. I lost my temper. I wish I had realized sooner that I was not doing what you asked, but I didn’t know.”

“Right. Because you’re from 1881,” Raoul said sarcastically.

“I am.”

Raoul rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh. Like we’re all supposed to believe and accept that and keep doing things as normal.”

Erik held back the retort he wanted to say, knowing if he allowed his temper to get the best of him, then he and Raoul would wind up in another shouting match. “I know this is strange. I find it strange too, but I am doing my best. I know I don’t know how to be a father. But I would like to try. What would your Dad do?”

At this time, Raoul looked sharply in his direction. “Try? You’re the one insisting that you’re not Dad and now you are going to _pretend_? Do you think this is some game? That we don’t have feelings? Lotte and Gus may believe you and think Dad is going to come back… but I know the truth. You _are_ Dad. You haven’t changed one bit.”

Raoul stood up and clenched his fists. “You know what I want? I want a Dad who understands me. I want a Dad who helps me practice with sports. I want a Dad who cares what I have to say and doesn’t make music a priority. But I have _you_. I _hate_ you!”

With that impassioned declaration, Raoul ran out of the room and slammed his bedroom door.

Erik flinched from the noise and gazed down at a loss for words and what to do next. He didn’t even hear Gus approaching him until the small boy sat next to him, his leg touching Erik’s.

Patting the older man’s shoulder, Gus said, “See? I knew you had it in you. You’re on your way in being Daddy.”

Erik failed to see how this was a good thing.

TBC…


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! So, Erik had some alone time with the kids. All in all, not too much of a disaster with all things considering. We get some more insight and some family time! You know the drill right after!

**Chapter 15**

Christine and the girls returned a few hours later from their shopping. Their faces were rosy, red from the cold as snow dusted the tops of their heads and their shoulders. Even the baby’s nose was cherry red, but her eyelids were drooping from exhaustion. Their excursion was a successful one from the number of bags and boxes that were carried into the house.

Catherine stayed long enough to help with the drop-off of packages and received hugs from her grandchildren. Raoul was still in his bedroom and hadn’t stirred from the moment he stormed up there. Nothing had to be said as Catherine shot her disapproval towards Erik, but she held her tongue in front of Lotte and Gus.

The older woman took her leave, and Christine and Lotte shed off their winter coats. Lotte removed her sister’s coat and took her upstairs to put her down for a nap. Gus followed saying he was going to play her a lullaby.

With Erik and Christine alone, he expected her to start asking questions about Raoul. Instead, she placed her hand on her hip as she appraised him with levity. “I heard you got your first ‘I hate you.’ Welcome to parenthood.”

His puzzlement said it all for how she knew. Christine’s lips curled upwards. “Gus texted me. He felt I should know before I came walking into World War 3 or something. But I can tell from the house still standing that all parties have survived.”

His shoulders sagged wearily, almost in relief that she wasn’t angry. But to make sure… “You’re not angry that I messed up?”

“Oh, Erik,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Gus told me enough to get the gist. It was an honest mistake about the science project. That happens sometimes with parents and schoolwork. There’s a reason why I tackle certain assignments, and my Erik does too. Apart from the bit with the cell phone. Did Raoul overreact? Yes. But with everything going on, it is possible the stress got to be too much, and he snapped. That’s on me for thinking everything was fine, and we will have to tackle that. At least you tried and while I don’t agree about running off into the study… You did make an effort afterwards. You have to know when to give yourself credit and when not to.”

“I can’t get his words out of my head,” Erik confessed. “Have I really been that horrible for him to think I don’t care?” He hadn’t realized the impact of what he had said until Christine’s eyes grew large, and her hands clasped over her mouth.

“Oh my God… Erik?” She reached for him, and he registered quickly that she thought it was _her_ husband.

He took a step back, and guiltily looked away. Christine’s hands fell at her side as her lips pressed firmly together. He didn’t need to look to know she was holding back her disappointment. That only heightened his remorse for even thinking he could be Campbell’s replacement. While Erik could justify why he would be a better choice, Christine loved Campbell. She _wanted_ the man that was her husband. Not an imitation. 

Unless he told her what he discovered.

He lifted his eyes and saw she was now busily picking up the bags. “I need to put these away. Can you help me?” She wasn’t looking at him and Erik silently conceded as he picked up what he could carry.

He followed her lead as she carried the gifts to the basement. She flicked on the light-switch and carefully took each step down. As they reached the floor, Erik glanced around the massive area. The basement was finished with a neutral tile flooring and cream-colored ceiling and walls to brighten the space. There was a small kitchenette in one corner of the room with a counter and barstools, and another corner was reserved as a play area for the children with a shelf containing a variety of board games and toys on the floor. To his right, against the wall, was a table of sorts that was white and sunk in with two circular paddles and a smooth, circular disk in the center. Close to the center of the room was a couch facing a TV screen hanging on the wall. There was a door immediately to his left and two other doors as he moved further in. No, three with the third hidden behind the staircase.

Christine went over to the door that was closer to the children’s side and turned on the light to illuminate the room. It was obviously a storage room from the various shelving units and containers that were all around. Christine set down the bags she was holding and went over to one of the shelves to grab a green plastic container. She snapped off the clasps on either side to remove the lid. There were already a couple bags in there, but she began to fill it up with her recent purchases.

She motioned to another container that was beneath another one. “Use that one to put the presents in.”

Erik set his down and did as he was told. The container he grabbed was light and was in fact empty, but he added his bags and everything in there. The lids were secured once more and together they put the containers back on the shelf and added another container on top so to dissuade the children from poking about.

Christine wiped her hands together and spun on her heels to go over to the other side of the room. She began pulling out some other containers that Erik saw was written in black ink as “Christmas decorations.” Tucked in the corner and up against the wall was a box that had taped going down the middle. He saw that it was marked as “Christmas Tree and Garland” and frowned.

“Why would the tree be in a box?”

“It’s not a real one. We just have to put the pieces together and fluff out the branches. Don’t worry about the lights. They’re already attached to it,” she explained. “Normally, we have it out after Thanksgiving, but we didn’t get a chance. You had a sudden emergency at the opera house and then we got busy, and it seemed we didn’t have the time. As much as I would love to wait until… I think we all could use some Christmas cheer. I know the kids are getting anxious about not having the tree up.”

He doubted a few decorations would change anything, but Christine seemed determined. She pulled out a couple more boxes and containers and had them pushed towards the center of the room.

“We’re going to need the rest of the calvary to help. You can carry up the one with the tree and I have the ornaments. Then we’ll get the kids to help with the rest. Ready?”

Christine hoisted up the container and began to head to the stairs. Erik grabbed the box with the tree. It was slightly heavy, but he managed as he got it up the stairs and into the family room. Christine had already gathered the children, including Raoul, and the twins were brimming with excitement while a ghost of a smile graced Raoul’s lips. Erik set his box down as the children went to the basement. 

Raoul didn’t look his way or say a word, and Erik had to sigh… out of relief? Out of discouragement? He didn’t know himself.

Between the three children and the two adults, they carried all the Christmas assigned boxes upstairs. Christine gave everyone a task as she opened each box and handed out the decorations. The tree will be saved for last.

It took over an hour, but they had the interior all festive for the holidays. Tinsel garland adorned doorways while a greenery garland with red ribbon was twisted over the railing and bannister of the stairs. The windows had candy cane, snowflakes, and even a Nativity scene lights hanging from suction cups that gave off a soft glow. There was also a Christmas village that was put on display with cotton snow beneath the buildings as well as some motion moving figurines that had to be plugged in.

As they worked on decorating, Christine turned on a radio to let the Christmas music fill the house. Erik did find it amusing as Christine and the children (even Raoul) sung along with the carols and adding in their own lyrics to certain songs. Christine had been right that this is what they needed as Raoul was letting go his earlier anger. He seemed more carefree, even teasing his siblings playfully. When the baby woke from her nap, Raoul carried her downstairs and set his sister in a rolling walker. She added her own chorus to the music as she happily rolled around and slap her hands on the tiny table attached to it. 

They took a break to have dinner, which Christine ordered pizza. The name sounded odd but in Erik’s mind he could envision the oozing cheese and hot pepperoni. When it was delivered, Erik thought to himself on how un-appetizing this pizza looked. Yet, the aroma was mouthwatering. It was like something internally went on in him and he knew he needed a slice.

Indeed, his taste buds were set aflame when he took a bite. He surprised himself in having three slices of this bread, tomato sauce, cheese, and meat combination. By the time everyone was full, there was a few slices leftover, which Christine put on a plate and wrapped them up to put into the refrigerator.

He helped with the cleanup by flattening the boxes the pizza came in and putting them in the recycle bin at the side of the house. It was still cold out and the snow stopped falling. He didn’t stay out long since he left his coat inside.

Once Erik was back in the warm house, Christine was telling the children it was time for the tree.

“I need your help with this,” she explained to Erik. She told the kids to start taking the empty boxes and containers downstairs into the storage room. Only the ornament box remained.

Christine and Erik assembled the tree, which he found it to be quite ingenious. It was setup in the corner of the room, so it was near an outlet for the lights to work. There were four individual pieces that slid in together and locked in place and once it was in the stand… stood about six feet tall. Christine began pulling down the branches to give it a fuller appearance and Erik followed her example. Once the tree was complete, Christine grabbed the garland to wrap around it. There were two sets that covered the length of the tree.

The adults stepped back to admire their work as the children dutifully applauded.

“All right guys,” Christine said. “You know the next drill. Raoul, grab the movie; Gus, get the DVD player ready to go; Lotte, open the box with the ornaments.” She rubbed her hands together in delight. “This is my favorite part of all.”

Erik quickly learned that this was a tradition of the Campbells. As the children placed the ornaments on the tree, they would watch their favorite Christmas movie, which apparently was called _The Muppets Christmas Carol_. Now, Erik was familiar with the Charles Dickens story, but he had to wonder _what in the world are the Muppets?_

It didn’t take long for him to find out.

He couldn’t decide if he should be horrified or confused about the many puppets—mostly animal-like, except for this curled nose blue _thing_ that insisted he was Charles Dickens to his rat companion—running around in London complete with music and singing. This was clearly not what Dickens had intended when he penned the story. Yet, it was evident the rest of the family found this enjoyable if they do this year after year.

Christine was humming along as she made sure each ornament had a wire loop fixture, which made it easier to hang on the branches without falling. Raoul, Lotte, and Gus took turns as they placed their ornaments all over or as far as they could reach. Erik was a bit intrigued over the importance of these adornments since only one squabble broke out between all three over who would get to hang up this crystalline angel. Raoul had been the most vocal about being the one to hang it, which Lotte countered that he had last year. Christine settled that argument by hanging it up herself, but higher up on the tree so the baby wouldn’t accidentally grab it. The twins did let it go, but Raoul grumbled something unintelligible to himself and that was all that was said on the matter.

The middle and lower parts of the tree were well covered, so the children took their places on the sofa to continue watching the movie as Scrooge was watching his past self in the school room grow up.

Christine tugged on Erik’s hand. “You can help me with the top.”

He sat on his knees as he looked into the container to see what was left-over. All he could see was boxes and boxes all lined up together, but the pictures that showed what was within did look breakable. The ones already on the tree were more children-oriented that represented each child. Raoul had mostly sport and superheroes, Lotte had Disney and musical inspired ones, and Gus had both music and animals. Each child had their own _Baby’s First Christmas_ ornament, but Erik frowned as he counted only three.

“Looking for this?” Christine had momentarily left the room and returned with a box in her hand. “We bought it this past summer in Frankenmuth for the baby.” Nestled inside was a rounded ornament in pink-rose and gold lettering with the current year on it. “Would you like to put this up?”

Erik tentatively took ahold of the delicate ornament that was for the youngest Campbell, a question on his face as he looked at Christine. She nodded, encouraging him, and Erik carefully stood up and walked over to the tree to look for the right spot. He found it a little to the side but still centered where it could be visibly seen in the room. Erik gingerly slipped the loop through the branch until he felt it was far back to hold the weight.

Christine stopped alongside him, smiling with approval at his pick. She stood on her toes to put her ornament on. It was round, opaque with white glitter, with two red hearts and a long-stemmed rose in black font that read: _A True Love Story Never Ends_. Beneath the last word, it was hand-painted in silver, was the year 2008.

She gazed at it fondly before turning to whisper to him, “You gave this to me for our first Christmas as a couple. Raoul was already born, and you wanted to commemorate the occasion.”

Christine returned to the container and pulled out another ornament—round—in shimmery blue. She hung it above the other ornament, so the white lettering stood out. He traced each word with his eyes as he read to himself: _Once 1, now 3, and to more… The Campbell Family_.

“You paid extra so you could do the hand-painting yourself since you went beyond the store’s limit,” Christine said, laughing quietly to herself. “You were so excited to become a father, for us to be a family…”

xXx

_They were cuddling on the couch, a fire crackling in the fireplace, and a blanket covering their laps. Christine tucked her legs under as she cradled their infant son in her arms as he stared up wondrously, his little arm moving as he gurgled with delight._

_They had been watching_ It’s a Wonderful Life _when Raoul woke from his nap, and with the movie over, he wasn’t ready to go back to sleep. Christine cooed as she shifted her gaze to Erik who was waving one finger hello to his son. His mask was not in sight, which was how Raoul liked it. Christine pursed her lips in a smile at the irony that their son would get upset if Daddy is wearing his mask. And Erik had been so worried that his face would frighten their child…_

_Going out in public did make things a little difficult when Raoul became fussy over the mask, but it was something they knew would change as he grew older. However, in the privacy of their home, the mask was gone much to Christine’s satisfaction. It was also good to see Erik feeling more comfortable and happier without it too._

_Lately now, there was a need for more happiness more than ever. This Christmas was already going to be tough. It’s hard to believe that it’s been three months…_

_Watching her eyes cloud over, Erik pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I think an early Christmas gift is needed.”_

_“Oh, Erik. You don’t have…”_

_“I insist. Let me take the baby. I need his help.”_

_Wondering what in the world how a baby would help him with his gift, Christine humored him and passed Raoul over to his father. Her heart clenched as a rush of warmth and affection ran over her how Erik adoringly looked at their son. She knew he would be an amazing father, and from the moment Raoul had been placed in his arms, she knew Erik would do anything to protect him. He was so determined that he would not become like his parents, and Erik was proving to be a natural._

_Her boys headed to the bedroom, and while they were gone, Christine’s eyes swept across the apartment. She had moved in with him into his apartment after Erik learned about the pregnancy and he endured the trials of her mood swings and food cravings as well as cravings of another nature, which Christine had not anticipated (to her embarrassment) but Erik loved every second of it and had no complaint about fulfilling that need; although, he wisely kept quiet when Christine sent him to the store in the middle of the night._

_If it was possible to fall even more in love with someone, then Christine did. Indeed, Erik was a keeper._

_Her smile fell for a moment before she shook herself out of it. Thinking about the apartment reminded her that she and Erik discussed looking for a house. Raoul was only a month old, and for now, the apartment suited their needs. Yet, it would be a matter of time that they would need more space as Raoul grew older._

_And Christine could envision a larger house with a spacious backyard for Raoul to run and play around in… and maybe a sibling or two._

_“Merry Christmas Christine.”_

_Christine gasped as she gaped at the small box that Erik set in her lap. It was wrapped in red paper and a green bow on top. Her heart began to beat a little faster as she unwrapped it to find a white cardboard box. It wasn’t what she thought it was, but inside she found an ornament protectively surrounded with tissue paper._

_“I always assumed I would spend the rest of my life alone. Then I met you and everything changed. I fell in love with you Christine Daaé. And if it were possible to love you more… you gave me a son.” Erik paused so he could take a breath, his voice trembling slightly as he lifted anxious eyes to her. “I never believed I could have a family. You have given me so much to hope for and…”_

_He gently lifted the box from her lap and set it on the end table, then he handed her Raoul who was now wrapped in a blanket. “Raoul has a question for you.”_

_Her brow arched as she pulled on the blanket. Her eyes widened that Raoul’s outfit had been changed and his new onesie certainly had a question on it._

Would you marry Daddy?

_Christine sharply looked up as Erik was down on one knee, another box—this time black and velvet—in his outstretched palm with a diamond winking from the firelight._

_She sat there, slack jaw, her mind churning. Then finally, she exclaimed: “YES!” Raoul let out a whimper from her sudden outburst that Christine sheepishly bounced him in her arms, then whispering softly, “Yes I will marry Daddy.” She gave Erik an impish wink and he couldn’t help but laugh through the tears of joy now._

xXx

“Mom! The sad song is about to start!”

Christine started as she faced the TV and saw young Ebenezer and Belle sitting on the bench. Lotte had the remote in her hand and paused the movie.

At Erik’s quizzical expression, she explained, “It’s a pretty song but really sad. The kids like it when I sing it. Makes it less sad when I do it.” Taking his hand, Christine pulled Erik to the couch.

Christine squeezed herself in the middle with Gus on her left and Lotte and Raoul on her right. She wrapped her arms around them and hugged them close as Lotte pressed play. Erik sat at the end near Gus as the scene played with Ebenezer making excuses for their marriage not taking place. As soon as Belle stood up, Lotte hit the mute button.

Gently as a lullaby, Christine began to sing the words as the character on the screen silently mouthed along. Even though the lyrics spoke about the love being gone, she managed to make it sound as if love wasn’t truly gone. Erik closed his eyes, savoring her voice, when something poked his foot.

Glancing down, the baby had rolled herself over to him and she had her arms up. Grinning, Erik bent down to retrieve her and placed her, so she was sitting on his lap, but still supported in his grasp. He caught Christine watching him and the tenderness in her countenance had him catching his breath. He could imagine the sight they made—all six—nestled comfortably as Christine sang with her heart. It was a moment that Erik wanted to capture for the rest of his life. 

For the first time, he felt like he had come home to his family.

The song now finished, and the volume restored to the film, they all remained as they were as the Ghost of Christmas Present joyfully had his turn with Scrooge.

Erik decided he liked this movie after all.

xxXXxx

By the time the movie was done, the twins were yawning and even the baby had nodded off. Christine roused Lotte and Gus so they could get ready for bed. She asked if they could take the baby with them and get her ready. With three out of the four children now upstairs, this left Raoul.

Apparently, he had been expecting that his mother would want to speak to him about earlier. He appeared resigned to the fact and crossed his arms over, awaiting the verdict about his behavior, purposely avoiding any eye contact with the masked man just inches away from him.

Christine grabbed the ottoman from a nearby recliner and dragged it over so she could face both males as she sat.

“I’m not going to lecture either one of you,” she began. “But I do think it’s important we air this out.”

“What’s the point Mom?” Raoul sighed. “It’s not going to change anything.”

“I think it just might,” she replied. “Hon, I know you were upset about having to redo your project. I understand. But I have messed up too when helping with your homework. Do you think it’s fair to blame Erik when he only wanted to help?”

He mumbled something under his breath. Not even Erik could catch it and Christine had asked Raoul to repeat himself.

“I said ‘this is stupid with this thing with Dad.’ It doesn’t make sense and I wish we stop pretending that this is even okay!”

“Believe me, this ordeal has been frustrating for everyone. But Raoul, we have to adjust until we understand what is going on. That means we’re going have to be extra patient with each other. And while I know your father is not himself, he is still your father—”

Raoul barked out a sardonic laugh. “You, Lotte, and Gus all think that. But what’s changed for me? _Nothing_. He doesn’t care about me!”

Erik inwardly cringed as he started to see how his prejudice towards the Vicomte had rubbed off on his treatment of the boy. Despite how he felt about the aristocrat, it was now plain to him that this was only a child and he had treated this Raoul with the pure disdain of an adult than to take into consideration the child’s feelings. Remorse was bubbling within him, and before he knew it, he heard himself say:

“That’s not true. I care about you very much. I was wrong to lose my temper in the beginning. I have no excuse for that other than it was misplaced, and I took it out on you. I wish I could take it back. Forgive me, son.”

Erik reached over to touch Raoul’s shoulder and the boy jerked away, hitting Erik’s hand away from him. However, it was one word that triggered him. 

“ _Son?! Son!?_ That’s rich coming from you!” he hissed, looking straight at Erik. “I know I’m nothing like the rest of this family. What a great _disappointment_ it must be that your oldest has more in common with his uncle—”

“Raoul!” Christine cried sharply.

But he kept going. “—I wish _he_ was my father! If only you took his place! At least _I_ know he loves me for me! Besides, I know why you’re doing this, and we would _all_ be better without _you_!”

The blow had been dealt as Erik flinched from Raoul’s scathing words. Before Christine could protest, Raoul was up and running away… this time to the basement.

Christine jumped to her feet, throwing Erik an apologetic look, and chased after her son. Knowing the damage was done and there was truly little else Erik could do, he thought it was best if he made sure the other children were in bed.

Meanwhile, Christine had a strong suspicion what she would find when she went into the basement. Sure enough, the TV screen was on and there he was… waving to the camera, his boyish grin filling his face as he said, “Hello Baby Campbell! It’s…”

A loud sob blocked out the rest as Raoul curled into himself. Even Christine had to swallow the lump in her throat as she approached her son and sat down. Raoul immediately flung his arms around her, gasping, “I’m sorry! I didn’t—I just—”

“Shh,” she whispered, patting his back gently. “You and your father are so much alike, and yet you two stubbornly refuse to see it. That had been mean of you to say those things. You are not a disappointment. How can you think that? Who cares if you cannot sing well or play an instrument? That doesn’t mean anything. You have a knack for sports, and yes, you did have setback on not making the team, but it happens. Do you think Michael Jordan gave up when he didn’t make his high school team?”

“No,” he sniffled.

“Right. And you shouldn’t either. You know what else? I noticed your drawings. You’re a pretty good artist with your comics. Where do you think that talent came from, huh? Certainly not from me.”

“Dad,” Raoul murmured.

“Right again. And he taught you a lot about drawing when you were younger. It’s okay not to always see eye-to-eye with him, but you had crossed the line.”

“I know,” Raoul said, looking down. “But…” He trailed off, bit his lip, and looked away again.

“I know there is something more going on between you and your father than an interest in sports. But right now, we need to be supportive. Whatever _it_ is… you need to set it aside. I know _he_ would say the same thing. Do you understand?”

Raoul nodded and rubbed his eye. “I love you Mom.”

“I love you too,” she said. “How about we watch this video and then go to bed? Tomorrow is going to be a fresh start.”

xxXXxx

Christine joined Erik in their bedroom after she kissed Raoul good-night and checked on the others to make sure they were asleep. The house was peacefully quiet, and she exhaled softly.

“Thank you for getting the munchkins ready,” she told Erik. “You’re getting really good at that.”

“It’s still a little daunting, but they let me know when I make a mistake.”

She laughed. “Yeah, they will do that.” She gathered her pajamas and went into the bathroom to change.

Erik waited until Christine came out when he told her, “The Vicomte was called Raoul de Chagny.”

She froze. “That was…?”

“The man my Christine chose over me,” he finished for her. “He’s handsome, has a perfect face, and looks almost identical to… Well, I imagine that’s how he would have looked at that age.” Sheepishly, Erik looked at his hands. “That’s why I behaved the way I did. I know now that it was ridiculous of me to confuse the Vicomte and Raoul the way I did, I have no excuses, and I am truly sorry for the pain I caused.”

Christine climbed into the bed and cupped his cheek so he could face her. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” she said. “I’m glad you see that this Vicomte guy and my son are not the same. Although, his name does come close to my best friend’s. And you know that I wasn’t even close to being romantically involved with him.”

His visible cheek reddened as he coughed in agreement.

“I did speak to Raoul about what he said to you. There is something else eating at him and he’s reluctant to tell me, so it’s important than ever that you be there for him. He needs that.”

Erik knew what she meant about being there, and Erik felt he could do that. But there was one thing he wanted to know…

“I noticed you haven’t mentioned a lot about your friend. I am surprised that he hasn’t turned up yet. Is he out of the country?”

Christine choked, her hand dropping away. “I wish he were Erik, but no… You see, Raoul, my best friend and yours… he died before I gave birth.”

TBC…

**Author's Note:**

> I have the first 5 chapters posted already on Fanfiction.net so I'm adding those on here as well so they are the same in terms of updates. :)


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